Retribution
by xo.skyla
Summary: Father knew he was dying, defeated and shamed by mere mortals, yet he refused to die without some form of retribution. Using the last bit of life within him, Father sends Ed to the Gate to kill him. Some point later a blond crashes through Hagrid's roof while another ends up on the Weasleys' kitchen table - naked and nothing but skin and bones.
1. Prologue

**_Disclaimer: _**_Do I look like J.K. Rowling or Hiromu Arakawa? *Looks at profile picture* Damn. I have been deceiving myself because I thought I did. -Sky's sarcasm. So, in other words: I don't own Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist, nor am I making a profit from this._

**_A/N: _**_So, basically, what even got this account started, was my love for FMA/HP crossovers - something I've not written. Well, at least, not in a long time. I was more focused on my other story that I recently posted, that I hadn't planned much ahead in it, and before I knew it, I had a six-page outline for this one (everything is planned except the end practically). That's when I realized that I would thoroughly enjoy writing this - and actually be able to get ahead thanks to a sturdy outline. I'm so proud of myself!_

_**Feedback:** Would be so, so appreciated. *Hint* *Hint* It helps me update faster (I think it's a security thing for most author's - 'Oh, no, it must be terribly written if no one comments!' and 'I must just be an awful author' are the top two thoughts that come to mind)._

* * *

**_Background information! Please read (!): _**_This is **MANGA** Ed and Al (though look like they do at the end of Brotherhood), just so you all know! For those who have not read the manga, I highly advise you do! Not just for this story or anything, but because of some of the major differences - especially in some of the characters. For instance, Alphonse in the manga is a little spunkier than anime Al. Yes, he's still his kind, selfless self, but there's on instance when he actually blows up on Izumi and it's hilarious! The chapter(s) for the episode 'One is all, all is one' is so much better in the manga (it goes into more detail and adds a lot of scenes). Plus the ordeal when Alphonse is kidnapped in Dublith by Greed has a few differences. JUST READ THE MANGA AND YOU WILL SEE!_

* * *

**_1. _**_Prologue_

* * *

It is over.

Father knows this, he isn't daft after all, perhaps in denial, because these damn mortals did not defeat him. Yet, his body is saying otherwise; his son, Greed, betrayed him in his final moments, allowing his defeat to become a possibility - a probability. On top of Alphonse Elric sacrificing himself to allow his older sibling, Edward, (those hell-spawn of Van Hohenheim's) to gain the upper-hand in the battle. Now, he was flaking away, shock and pain flooding every vein in his body, demanding that he just give in and fade - but he refuses.

He's humiliated, embarrassed -_ ashamed_ - that a mere mortal is going to deal the final blow. The cheers of the soldiers nearby are deafening: _"You can do it, Ed!" "**Go Fullmetal!**" "He's done for!"_ It's enough to make him sick. Yet, all he can do is wonder _why_ God has rejected him,_ why_ it has come to this, and _why_ can't he seem to gather his wits and fight back?!

He's like a cornered animal, desperate and on its last leg. He did not want to go in such a degrading manner; he is above these pathetic humans -

His eyes widen, the sun beating down on his quivering form unrelenting. Edward, still distraught from the sacrifice his younger sibling made in order to save him, stands before him with his (both very fleshy) fists raised, chest heaving as he pants heavily.

Father stumbles forward. _Yes_, he might not survive, but he can at least drag those damn Elric brothers down with him (hurting Hohenhiem in the process as a plus) - and he has just enough souls within himself to do so. It will ease some of the burn of humiliation that sparks on every nerve ending in his body. _Yes._ He _will_ do this.

Edward doesn't even know what hits his him.

There is a blinding flash of crimson that stuns him, then he feels a hand slam against his chest with so much force he falls backward (are those black hands reaching for him?!) - and then nothing.

When he comes to, he is greeting by a startling sight: a pair of amber eyes set upon a face so very similar to his own and a thick halo of blond hair that acts like a veil, blocking his view of the vast expanse of white behind the painfully thin figure hovering above. Normally, he would have panicked at waking up to someone being so near while he feels prone, but he recognizes this boy; he is the only person in his life that he loves unconditionally. "Al . . ." he croaks out. His sibling cracks a wide smile.

"Are you okay, brother?" he inquires, helping Edward sit up into an upright position. He nods, because he is, and isn't surprised that Alphonse - sickly think, malnourished, just sacrificed himself, Alphonse - is ignoring himself to care for his stupid older brother.

"Worry about yourself," Edward remarks, shaking his head, "how are you feeling? Did your soul attach properly?"

Alphonse nods and raises his arms out in front of him. "Yeah, but I look like someone straight from the crypt." He chuckles out of good nature, but Edward can't help but feel even worse than what he did - he had put Alphonse in his situation after all. Alphonse must have sensed this because he quickly adds, "What happened? Did we win?"

"I . . . don't know." Alphonse gives him a horrified expression that spurs Edward to add, "But he was in such a weakened state - Colonel Bastard, hell, even a non-alchemist, could have finished him off in one blow. Even a gunshot between the eyes would do that trick." Alphonse visibly relaxes.

"Then how did you get here?"

Edward frowns. How DID he get here? How . . .

"Father used the last of the souls within himself to bring you here," a voice composed of multiples tones answers, drawing both Elrics' attention. They turn to the source, eyes widening at the sight of Truth, wearing Edward's leg, near Edward's Gate a few feet away. "In exchange he wants you dead."

Alphonse and Edward gasp. "NO!" Alphonse screeches, scrambling to his feet, knees shaking at supporting his own weight. Edward scrambles to his own feet and barely manages to catch his trembling sibling from toppling over. "You can't . . . take me instead! _Please_ -"

"Alphonse!**_ NO._**" Edward snaps, "You won't sacrifice yourself for me! I refuse!"

Truth's mocking laughter interjects and they turn to see him cuffing a hand to his forehead. "He has enough souls to kill only one, but I'm not giving him what he wants. The way he's lived - the way he's died, has warranted that. Instead, I have other plans for you, Elrics."

"What is it, you bastard . . . ?" Edward hisses, noting the way Alphonse's grip tightens on his arm.

"You always want too much, and after being here so many different times, you should know that I'm not going to give you what you ask." he - it - says, "If I were in your shoes, I'd be more worried about getting your brother to go with you. What will you sacrifice for him?" He crosses his arms. "Your entire body? Your life? What?"

Edward clamps his eyes shut. He should have known that Truth wouldn't answer any questions he asked! What is worth Alphonse's soul and body? He has nothing to offer - his body isn't enough - he knows that now, but what then? _What?_

_Think damn it!_

_Think . . . ._

_**Keep** thinking!_

_You're the **youngest** to ever join the ranks of State Alchemists . . ._

_**Alphonse** is your little brother! Look how much **he** gave to save **you!**_

_You can't let. Him. Down. You can't. **Failure isn't an option!**_

"Brother," Alphonse's voice cuts through his thoughts like a hot knife through butter. He looks at him with a dark gaze. "It's okay." But it's not! He gives Truth a pleading look. "Please . . . just let him go." he says. The words are like a punch to the gut for Edward. He won't leave his brother here - he _won't!_

"No!" Edward snaps, spine straightening. He has the answer! He knows what to do! He almost laughs at how ignorant he's been! Of course, it is obvious what he has to do. "I know what to use as sufficient payment."

Truth seems to reel for a moment before a shit-eating grin appears on his visage. "Oh?" he begins, "And what might that be?"

Edward points behind Truth. "That big thing there is my payment." He smirks. "It's MY Portal of Truth, which means I can do whatever I want with it."

"But brother . . ." Alphonse murmurs with wide eyes. If he gets rid of his Gate, then . . .

Truth, after getting over the initial shock, slaps a hand to his forehead and laughs hysterically. "You're serious?!" Edward's facial expression remains passive. "Without it you won't be able to use alchemy again." he warns. Edward sighs.

"I know," he says, "it contains all there is to know about alchemy, all the knowledge of the world, but it has made me arrogant. It's made me think that everything can be solved with alchemy. It's blinded me. I don't need that."

"You're willing to lower yourself to being just an ordinary human?" Truth presses, as if unconvinced, which, really, he probably is. After all, Edward has relied so heavily upon alchemy ever since his father left home - and to think, it all started with trying to keep his and Alphonse's mother happy. Something so innocent, well-intended, turned into something akin to an addiction. He _needs_ to free himself.

Edward smiles softly. "What are you talking about?" he questions. "An ordinary human is all I've ever been. One that couldn't even save the life of a little girl." Alphonse flinches, knowing good and well whom he is referring to.

"Hmm, a life with no alchemy . . . are you sure about that?" Truth asks, raising his hand and wagging a finger. "Think about it."

Edward closes his eyes, Alphonse's voice in his mind, followed by many others', including his mother's and father's, Colonel bastard's, Riza's, Granny Pinako's, Ling's, Mei's, Lan-Fan's, and many others, eventually ending with a gentle 'Ed' in Winry's voice. His eyes snap open and his smile widens.

"Who needs alchemy when I have THEM?"

Truth raises his hands high into the air, grinning. "Correct answer, Mr. Al-che-mist!" he says as he starts flaking away, along with Edward's Gate, "There's the exit," he adds, gesturing at Alphonse's Gate, before an ominous expression mars his visage, "Surprise me."

The brother's don't know what that means, but at the moment they don't care. All Edward cares about is that his little brother is back in his body and finally coming back with him - in the flesh. His body isn't denying coming with him (and he hasn't lost any additional body parts) - and all he can do is look Alphonse over with tears brimming in the corners of his eyes.

"Finally . . ." he says, pulling Alphonse to him in a gentle embrace (even though it's taking everything in him not to just crush him with joy) that is quickly reciprocated. When he pulls away, he stares Alphonse in the eye. "That was reckless, Al! You could have been stuck here a long time!"

Alphonse chuckles. "Speak for yourself."

Suddenly Alphonse's Gate cracks open, revealing a golden light. They turn towards it, knowing what they need to do.

"Let's go home together."

Alphonse nods. "Hmm."

But something terrible happens when they step through; immediately they are pulled apart by some invisible force. They desperately reach for one another, clawing at the air and calling out for one another - but it's futile. It all is.

Then Alphonse starts screaming in pain, alerting Edward. "Alphonse!" he cries out, watching as his sibling clutches his abdomen, his screams loud as he is flung further and further away into the golden abyss - further away from Edward.

Eventually, when they can no longer see or hear one another, both black out.

* * *

"What happened? Did we win?" Roy Mustang questions, the silence around him unnerving. If only he could see, dammit! Being blind is so . . . isolating and terrifying. It's a pain that he's never experienced before and wants to be put out of immediately, but he knows that's not possible. He involuntarily shivers.

He feels Riza's hand lightly touch the back of his. "Yes, but . . . Alphonse still hasn't returned from the other side - and Edward has vanished alongside Father."

Mustang's heart drops. "You don't mean . . . ?"

There's a pause before she says anything, and that's answer enough: the Elrics are possibly gone forever. But instead of saying that, saying what they're all thinking, she settles with a: "I'm not sure, sir."

In the meanwhile, Alex Louis Armstrong, crying silently, wipes at his tears and looks over at a shocked Hohenheim. "Edward and Alphonse Elric . . ." he pauses, "Van Hohenheim, thanks to your sons our country has been saved. Without them, we would never have uncovered such a conspiracy - and now," he chokes on a sob, "they didn't deserve this."

Van attempts to fight back his own tears, cursing himself for failing two people he loves more than anything, but fails - they pour down his cheeks in rivers. _Trisha, I failed you and our boys. It's all my fault._

He feels Izumi's hand tighten around his shoulder (she has been holding him up) and glances over at her, not surprised to see the pained expression on her visage. Then he notices she's on the brink of tears - his sons had become family to her. He knows this. She and Sig loved Alphonse and Edward as if they were their own. He's grateful for the Curtises, they've been a form of stability for his sons - something he's never been.

And in that moment, he comes to one decision: "I'll get them back. I'll find a way - even if it means holding on a little longer," he announces, and whispers in a barely audible murmur, "Just wait Trisha, I'll be with you again soon. I promise."

"Here." the Xingese boy, Ling, says, stepping forward and holding out a Philospher's Stone. He can see Mei, the young girl that Alphonse sacrificed his armor to save, in the background, sobbing as hard as she can. It pains him to see - she really cared for Alphonse. "Bring them back with this."

"They wouldn't want that." Van says in a gentle decline. "I'll find another way. I have to."

* * *

Rubeus Hagrid is just enjoying a cup of tea and reading the daily newspaper, something about a wizard executing a chain of public portable-toilet explosions being arrested finally, when a bright flash of blue just out the window catches his attention. He blinks and looks up, waiting for something to happen, but when nothing does, he shrugs and picks up reading where he had left off - when a loud boom startles him.

"_Bloody hell!_" he swears, having spilled his tea on the shirt he had just put on and stands, going towards the room where the sound came from. When he arrives at his destination, he doesn't expect to see a huge hole in his roof nor a strange blond laying beneath it, bloodied and disheveled.

He doesn't know how to take it, or what to do at first, but eventually approaches and kneels down by the figure. He rolls the male onto his back and raises his eyebrows. The boy is most likely fifteen years of age, stuck in the phase between man and child. That much is obvious.

Hagrid isn't certain the teen is a threat, but he gives him the benefit of the doubt because he looks harmless in his sleep, and packs him to the couch. He lays him down and scratches at his head. What does he do now? Perhaps he should get Dumbledore? He'll know what to do.

So that's what he does.

When he gets back, Dumbledore in tow, the boy begins to stir, his eyelids fluttering open to reveal golden irises (odd). He suddenly sits up, eyes wide, and he cries out, "Alphonse!" He looks around in a panicked state before freezing when he spots Hagrid and Dumbledore. "Who the hell are you?!"

"A feisty 'en." Hagrid mutters while Dumbledore laughs heartily.

"I am Albus Dumbledore," the older of the two proclaims cheerily then gestures towards Hagrid, "and this here, is Rubeus Hagrid. And you might be?"

The boy scrunches his eyebrows, seemingly mulling over this information, then thumbs back in his direction. "Edward Elric. You have weird accents . . . where are you from?"

Dumbledore and Hagrid both raise their eyebrows. He doesn't know where they are from? Their accents are obvious after all. Then again, Edward did appear here in a strange manner. Still yet, that shouldn't stop him from knowing what a British accent is. Most know of it.

Nevertheless, Dumbledore gives an answer. "England."

Now it's Edward's turn to let his eyebrows shoot up high on his forehead. "Eng . . land?" he mumbles, getting to his feet and looking away and shaking his head.

Something is most definitely off with this boy, but Dumbledore doesn't know what it can be. Perhaps amnesia? That's the only diagnosis that he can come up with for someone not knowing of England's existence. Unless he was raised in a very isolated home where his parents refused him basic knowledge.

Hagrid can only scratch his head in confusion. He doesn't know what to say, nor think.

"I am wondering, how did you get here?" Dumbledore questions gently. Edward starts pacing and knots his eyebrows together. Then, suddenly, he halts all movement, and gives a heavy sigh.

"I . . . don't remember."

Dumbledore strokes his beard. "That's unfortunate, it seems you've lost a bit of your memory," he mumbles, "You are bleeding near your temple, perhaps you received brain trauma? How about we head to the infirmary and have you healed?"

In response, Edward gives him a mistrusting look. Dumbledore smiles. "I'm not going to hurt you, Mr. Elric. I can assure you of that. Hagrid and I just wish to help is all."

The boy contemplates it for a moment - not that either man can blame him, he has just arrived in a decidedly foreign place with no recollection of how he got there, injured and confused. Dumbledore understands his hesitancy. Fortunately, when he does answer, it's positive. "Fine . . ."

"Right this way then, Mr. Elric."

* * *

In the Weasley household, also known as The Burrow, Molly is shuffling about the kitchen finishing up breakfast while her husband, Arthur, and four of their seven children, Ginny, Ronald, Fred, and George, sit at the table, awaiting for the order to pull out their wands and set the table, when a vibrant flash of blue causes all of them to jump in surprise - then suddenly there's a loud thud that comes from the table.

Molly is baffled, confused, and wondering _what the bloody hell is going on_, when the light fades away to reveal a sickeningly thin figure laying on the kitchen table, stark naked, and blond hair splayed across the table beneath him. The family can only stare in shock, more concerned that someone is in such a terrible condition than the fact that someone appeared out of thin air and landed on the kitchen table.

But then, Ginny realizes just what she is staring at and clasps her hands over her face and screeches, running out the room. For some reason, the action snaps everyone out of their daze.

"All his bits are visible!" Fred and George exclaim in unison. Molly rolls her eyes and quickly conjures up a blanket to lay over the boy's lower half.

"What just happened?" Ron mumbles, rubbing at his eyes as if they might have deceived him.

"Get them out of the room," Molly snaps at Arthur, who quickly does as requested, sending the children to their bedrooms. He then returns to Molly's side as they take in the boy's appearance.

"What could have possibly have wound him up in such a horrid condition?" Arthur mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. "It looks as if he hasn't eaten anything in years!"

Molly frowns. "Abuse and neglect most likely! Poor child! He's lucky he ended up here! Much longer of this and he would have died!" She waves her wand over him and begins a strong healing spell.

"How much can ya do for him?" Arthur asks, a concerned gaze lingering on the boy's sunken cheeks then drifting down to his rib-cage where every bone is visible. It physically ails him to see, because he didn't even know people _could_ get that skinny.

"His bones are brittle and his muscles are next to non-existent, but with magic I can stabilize him." she answers without missing a beat. "He will have to stay here until he's better." Arthur gives her a look that she sniffs at. "Look, we might as well be sending him to his death if we take him back to where he came from. They obviously don't care for him! He's just a child for God's sake!"

Arthur grunts in defeat. "Yes, yes, you're right, dear. I'll go work on a few strengthening potions. It should help."

* * *

There's only one thought that crosses Ron's mind: _what the bloody hell just happened?!_

That boy, about his age - a concept he can't seem to grasp in his mind - is unlike any he's ever seen before. Yes, his best friend, Harry, is scrawny, he himself is rather lanky, but they are nowhere near the thinness that the boy downstairs is. It hurt him to even stare at the kid! Every rib, bone, and dip is visible in the poor lad's body!

He had heard what his mum had said about the boy's condition: _abuse_ and _neglect_. On a level that exceeds even that of what Harry has to go through. The Dursleys may lock Harry up in his room, but at least they _feed him_. He can't even begin to fathom being in such a situation - and for so long - or any amount of time for that matter. He's been blessed with a loving family and he's never been more grateful.

He is brought from his pondering when a knocking on his door startles him. He looks up mumbles 'come in', before the door cracks open and in pops Ginny's head. He arches a red eyebrow. "Ginny?"

She nods and slips inside, shutting the door behind her. She looks anywhere but at Ron, her cheeks still a vibrant shade of ruby. (Not all that surprising considering she just saw the male anatomy in person for the first time.) "Um, what kind of magic was that? How did he get here?"

Ron blinks. "How am I supposed to know?" He flails his arms about in an exasperated fashion. "I've never witnessed such a spell before! It certainly wasn't your average apparition spell!"

Ginny shivers. "I . . . I don't know what to think."

"Not what you expected?" he teases, earning a glare in return. He slaps his knee and laughs obnoxiously.

"Shut up, you eejit!" she snaps, her entire face turning red with embarrassment. She then huffs and storms out of his bedroom, muttering under her breath.

Ron stays up in his room a little longer, but eventually his curiosity gets the best of him and he takes his leave, being as stealthy as he can be when walking down the stairs - only to pause with wide eyes when he spots his parents huddled around the sofa, the unhealthy boy, now clad in clothes too big, laying there in a deep slumber.

"The strengthening potions?" Molly finally asks, looking up at Arthur expectantly. He nods.

"They're brewin'." he answers. He scratches the back of his head, a skeptical look twisting its way onto his features. "Hopefully he's awake by the time they're done."

Molly's face softens as she returns her attention back to the boy. "I'm just hoping we can do somethin' for 'em, the poor boy . . ."

"Do you think we should contact Dumbledore? Tell him about this?"

Ron certainly thinks so, but he can't say as such, he is eavesdropping after all - an endeavor that his parents have never been overly fond of. He hears George, Fred, and Ginny approach behind him. _It's about time._ They're just as mischievous as he is.

"Yes, but only after he's in proper condition," Molly says with a huff, "He's just a child - and a defenseless one at that. I don't reckon he'll be much of a threat when he wakens, though my spells will give him the ability to at least walk."

Arthur bobs his head in silent agreement.

**TBC**

* * *

**_That's all for now. _**

**_Um, it's definitely a longer prologue than what I intended, but I think it got what I needed to get across. I'm sure you noticed one thing: I'm terrible at writing British accents - probably would be better with a southern accent since I have one (freaking annoying as hell, too). I did try though, adding in words that they seemingly used (tried to look up better phrases and such, but that will come in later). _**

**_I hope everyone is in character thus far! Harry, Ron, and Hermione will play a part in this - obviously. But our leads will be Ed and Al. I'm mainly concerned with writing Fred, George, and Arthur - I'm not very good with writing humor, which I've been trying to improve, but I feel more comfortable writing things that fall under the 'serious' category._**

**_Also, this is taking place during The Goblet of Fire in the Harry Potter world. _**

**_Please tell me your thoughts and whether or not you think this will be worth continuing! _**

**_Until next time!_**


	2. Hydrogen

**_A/N: _**_I would like to thank everyone that took the time to read plus review, fave, or add to their alerts. It means a lot and I hope you continue being awesome like that. xD_

_About the chapter names . . . um, I'm very indecisive when it comes to them (because I want it to embody the entire chapter), so instead of dealing with it, I've decided to just name each chapter after an element. It's so much easier and looks better than just having 'chapter 1, chapter 2,' and so forth. Woo. Hah._

_******Also, for those of those wondering about Ed's alchemy: **no, he doesn't have it.** He gave it up for his bro. It's mainly because everyone else seems to find ways for him to keep it and I thought it would be a little more original to not let him have it. And even though he doesn't, he will still kick some serious ass (I love Edo). Like I said, this story is focused mostly on Al and Ed, both will be playing the biggest roles in this story (as I enjoy writing them more than the HP cast).__  
_

* * *

**_2. _**_Hydrogen_

* * *

_"I have other plans for you, Elrics." _

Truth's words ring loud in Edward's ears, reminding him that Father had sent him to the Gate in an attempt to kill him. It had been denied, thankfully, but Edward had completely forgotten the fact that Father _DID_ give something up in exchange for Edward's demise. Apparently it was sending him to another world - dimension - universe - wherever the hell _here_ is.

He should have known that the Gate leads to more than just a black abyss, that there is an exit point. However, he wonders where Alphonse has disappeared to. Is he back in Amestris? Is that why they were forced apart the moment they passed through Alphonse's Gate?

He has given up his own use of alchemy for his brother's soul and body, Truth said it was enough, but how will he ever know that Alphonse is okay? That he still isn't sitting at the Gate, slowly withering away? The thought is powerful enough to cause him to stumble behind the mountain that is Rubeus Hagrid and place a hand against a nearby stone wall (apparently the infirmary is in a large castle known as Hogwarts) for support.

"Are ye okay, Edward?" Hagrid inquires, pausing in mid-step to peer back at the golden-haired boy. The action is appreciated, but completely unnecessary, Edward decides, and waves him off dismissively. Dumbledore, whom has been following from behind, places a hand on Edward's shoulder, his gaze focused on Hagrid.

"He's probably just faint from receiving such wounds to his head, Hagrid," the older man says, gesturing towards the blood staining Edward's face. "Do you remember how you received those wounds by any chance?"

What Edward wants to say is something along the lines of '_nosy old fuck'_, but considering the fact that they are going to heal his wounds, he settles for - "No, everything is a massive blur."

Dumbledore nods, seemingly convinced, and they continue onward.

After ten more minutes of walking, Edward quickly concludes that this Hogwarts place is nothing but a labyrinth of vast hallways and rooms, all interconnected, gloomy, and poorly lit. In fact, thanks to the dim lighting, he has begun to develop a headache - just great, _you know_, since he already had one to begin with.

Eventually they arrive at the infirmary and Edward is quickly ushered to a bed by a little old woman named Madame Pompfrey. She examines his head with gentle hands before shifting her kind stare onto Dumbledore. "Care to explain what has caused this young man such injuries?" Her gaze flickers to Hagrid and hardens. "You didn't let him get hurt did you? _Huh?_"

"No, no," Dumbledore insists, shaking his head, from side-to-side, "he appeared out of thin air and crashed through Hagrid's house, Madame, with no memory of how he arrived or how he received his injuries." Madame Pompfrey frowns and focuses back on Edward and pulls a _stick? - **the hell?**_ - from her pocket.

"Now, deary," she begins, "I'll have these cuts healed in just a jiffy, yes?"

Edward blinks, confused, and wondering just what in the world this batty woman is about to do - when she waves the stick around and a flash of light shoots from the end, hitting him directly in the face and soothing any pain and discomfort he was previously feeling. He can only give her a dumbfounded look before frantically spouting: "What the hell was that?!"

"Language, young man!" Madame Pompfrey scolds, but goes unheard. Edward jumps to his feet and dashes to the closest mirror, eyes expanding into saucers when he notices that injuries have been healed - and just like that. No stitches, no ointments, no bandages, _no nothing!_ Just a wave of Pompfrey's stick and he's all better! Almost like alkahestry, but with no circle, but then again, it would have taken longer than that!

"It's magic," Dumbledore answers, stepping beside Edward with a perplexed look upon his face (one that Edward himself is wearing). "You've never heard of it before?"

"Of course not!" Edward snaps. "Magic can't be possible! It defies everything I've learned - it bypasses equivalent exchange, the laws of nature, physics, and the conservation of matter - everything! _I-It just can't be possible, dammit!_" Because if it is, then alchemy - everything that's happened to him and Alphonse could have been prevented.

Dumbledore raises his eyebrows. "I do believe that Madam Pompfrey just proved otherwise, hmm?"

Edward bites his tongue, having no response in return, because the old man is right. It doesn't mean he's willing to accept it just yet, though. Therefore: "What about equivalent exchange? In order to obtain, one must give something of equal value in exchange."

All three give him looks of incredulity. He blinks. Had he said something odd?

Finally Dumbledore answers. "I'm afraid that none of that applies to magic."

Edward frowns, once again, wondering where the world he has ended up. Ultimately, he decides he doesn't want any part of this and launches himself from the sink in front of the mirror, heading for the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Madame Pompfrey chides, chasing after him like a worried mother hen fussing over her chick.

"My brother . . . he isn't with me. I need to find him." he declares, not caring for their reactions, because all that matters is finding Alphonse - if he is even here to begin with. He can't risk it though; an image of a thin, defenseless image of Alphonse comes to mind and causes a sharp pain to blossom in his chest. He stops walking, his breathing hindered.

"Perhaps we can be of assistance?" Dumbledore suggests. "Do you remember where you last saw your brother?"

Edward furls his fists tightly. "It doesn't matter," he says, "you can't help."

"Now, you don't know that unless ye try, lad," Hagrid remarks, his gruff voice booming. Sig and Armstrong would be honored to meet the man, no doubt. "I say ya stay with me until ya get an inkling of where yer brother might be. No need to rush off without knowing where yer goin'."

The former Fullmetal Alchemist hates to admit it, but the mountain man is right.

_Well, fuck_.

* * *

Molly cannot seem to keep her eyes off the frail before her, his chest rising and falling in even intervals, his thin face twisted in a pained expression. She wants to cry, but doesn't because it would frighten her children, but - she bites her bottom lip - _who could be cruel enough to do this to a child?_ The thought of one of her children being in such conditions is enough to make her sick. Whoever did this - they deserve a fate worse than death, that much is certain.

Arthur left her side moments ago to check on the vat of strengthening potion boiling in the cauldron, leaving her to wave her wand over the boy and try to restore his bones and muscles. It's been successful thus far, yet he still hasn't awakened. It's worrisome.

When she has done all that she can (potions will have to do the rest), she conjures up a chair to sit upon and scoots close to the couch, reaching out to brush the boy's blond hair out of his face. It had been brittle when he had arrived a few hours prior, but thanks to magic, she was able to restore enough nutrients to restore a slight shine to it. However, the only way it will fully return to proper condition is by personal maintenance and eating healthy - both of which she will see to once he wakes up - _IF_ he wakes up, she reminds herself.

She continues watching him breathe in a thoughtful silence, her hand moving to feel his forehead for a temperature, sighing in relief when he feels warm - not cold nor too hot, but _just right_. It lifts a heavy weight off of her shoulders, but she still can't decide _what next_.

Yes, they will make sure he drinks the strengthening potions; yes, she will offer him a place to stay until he's better; yes, she will contact Dumbledore, informing him of the mystery revolving around the boy's unexpected arrival -

She glances up when she hears a crashing from upstairs, not surprised to see someone's - most likely Ron's - scrambling, sock-clad feet push off the top step and dive down the hall in an attempt to not be seen. Molly rolls her eyes. Her children are too curious for their own good.

A moment later Arthur appears, eyes locked on the boy's form. "It's done," he begins, "but it won't be of use if he's still asleep. We should try to wake him."

Molly doesn't seem convinced and gives the boy a weary look. "I don't know about that, now, Arthur," she mumbles softly, "he looks restless, even while sleeping -"

"He's been through hell! Just look at 'em!" Arthur retorts in a harsh whisper then massages his forehead. "If we don't get that potion in 'em, he might not make it through the night."

Molly looks frazzled at the notion and sends her husband a heated glare. "_Well, I've never!_" she snaps. "I've stabilized his body the best I can; no one will be dying tonight." She gestures towards the child. "He needs rest. When he wakes up, he wakes up!"

"Fine, fine," Arthur says, raising his hands up in surrender. "We'll do it your way, darling."

Pleased, Molly averts her attention back onto the boy, hoping he will awaken soon. Her gaze softens when his face contorts, his eyebrows pinched tightly together. She cannot help but wonder what he's dreaming . . .

* * *

Complete paralysis; it's what Alphonse feels as he peers into the Gate, his throat too tight to form even a scream, a large crease in the vast blackness becoming visible until it splits to reveal a single, wide eye that quickly focuses on him, amused. His stomach knots with dread, yet he can't move, and mentally he panics, wanting a way out of this torment - he wants to call for Edward - for his father - his mother - Izumi - Winry - Granny - !

Spindly arms shoot out, clawing their way to him - and finally, his legs finally decide to work. He pushes off the ground and runs only managing to put ten feet of distance between himself and the Gate - when he is stopped by an ominous white figure, its face split with a wide, mocking, yet calculating grin. _Truth._ He collapses before it, knowing it's game over.

"Your brother gave his life for you -"

Alphonse clenches his eyes shut, slamming his hands over his ears to try and block out Truth's voice. "_No!_ He's alive -_ he has to be_!" Because if he's failed his brother, his only living relative, he will never forgive himself - and he's not sure he can take much more.

"Too pathetic to stand on your own -"

"Shut up!" he cries out, freezing when he feels the hands, cold to the touch, wrap around his ankles and begin to slide up his legs, slowly tightening. He gasps. No. No. _No!_ "_Stop_, dammit!"

Truth cackles and steps aside, revealing a broken form behind him, doused in blood - the crimson liquid almost a shocking hue in comparison to the surrounding pasty white scenery - and feels his heart shatter when he realizes that this person has a golden blond braid trailing down to between his shoulder blades, the frazzled ends dyed red.

"Brother!" No answer. "Brother!" No answer again. "Ed! Edward! Please . . ." he chokes out desperately, reaching out for his sibling with a shaky hand, tears streaming freely down his cheeks. _"Please! _D-Don't . . ._ Don't leave me alone!"_

A raw scream tears from his lungs and his eyes flutter open - _when had he closed them?_ - a blinding light overwhelming his senses -

Only for him to come face-to-face with two frantic people; one a redheaded male and the other, a kind looking older woman, the latter of which has her hands pinning his shoulders down to something soft beneath him, her mouth forming various shapes, but the ringing in his ears blocking out any sounds. He gulps down hair, his body trembling, the sensations of the woman's warm hands on his shoulders like a series of electrical shocks racking his entire being - _is he in shock?_

He can't seem to get a grip; he's shivering, confused, and - _oh God_ - **_brother!_** - where's Edward?

"B-Brother!" he manages to croak out, his throat sore and he bucks against the woman's hold. She tries to keep him restrained and he vaguely hears the male screech _'go to your rooms!'_ for some odd reason, when he manages to break free, a look of surprise crossing the woman's face. She stumbles backwards as he jumps to his feet, swaying and light-headed.

Man, he had forgotten what it feels like to be nauseous - it isn't pleasant. Nevertheless, he gets into a defensive stance, his legs slightly trembling due to lack of use over the years. He quickly conduces that exhaustion is a pain, too, but he has to defend himself. (He would liked to have taken the time to marvel at the fact that_ he has his body back_, but that doesn't seem appropriate right now.)

If Edward was here, he would have already come to his defense, with him being in such a weak state - which means he's most likely not. Unless he's tied up somewhere - because, as far as he is concerned, if he and Edward went through his Gate at the same time, then shouldn't they both have come out at the same, exact spot? He grits his teeth. These people better not have done anything . . .

The chances of him winning this battle alone looks slim, even if it is just against two middle-aged adults. But if anything, with what he's dealt with, he knows better than to underestimate an opponent based upon their age. Lan-Fan's grandfather, Fu, comes to mind.

He narrows his eyes. "Who are you?"

The woman raises her hands in a sign of peace. He doesn't drop his guard in the least. "I am Molly Weasley," the female answers then gestures with a slight bob of her head at the male, "and that's my husband, Arthur. We won't hurt you, deary."

Alphonse observes the couple, his golden gaze flickering from the concerned expression hanging to their faces as if it will be enough to prevent him from pouncing on them to the clutter of the house and then back onto them. Then, he realizes just how odd they sounded, their words accented in a way he's never heard before. He frowns.

"Where are we?"

There's a pause of silence in which Alphonse wonders if either is even going to answer - when Arthur takes the initiative and cuffs a hand to his mouth to clear his throat before speaking. "Devon, England."

Alphonse's eyebrows raise upward - _Devon, England?_ - he searches his brain for the location on the world map, being well acquainted with all the countries on the globe, but England doesn't even come to mind. In fact, that's the first time he's ever heard the word _England_. Then again, there are a chain of small countries far west - he might have overlooked it - or a civil war could have broke out in one of these countries recently and those that revolted managed to form their own independent nation.

That sounds plausible.

"How close is that to Amestris?" he presses. He has to get back to his brother. _He has to._ He clung to Truth's every word, and according to him, both of them were free. Edward's sacrifice was enough to pull them both from the Gate.

"Amestris?" Molly mutters, blinking in confusion. Alphonse's heart drops. It means she hasn't heard of his country, either.

"We've never heard of such a place." Arthur admits slowly, scratching the back of his head. "Aha! Is it near Cambodia?" Alphonse frowns - ignoring the fact that it is another place he's never heard of - and shakes his head. "Japan?" Another headshake in response. "Uh, how about Bulgaria?" Alphonse groans, where are these places?! Perhaps he isn't as familiar with a world map as he thought himself to be.

Regardless, this isn't getting them anywhere.

"It doesn't matter," he declares with a huff, "Can you explain to me how I ended up in this house?"

"It's a particularly odd situation to say the least, mister . . ."

"Oh, sorry - Alphonse Elric."

Molly nods and continues: "Alphonse, you see, there was this flash of light and the next thing we knew you came crashing down on our kitchen table! _Stark naked no less!_ Oh, and so sickly, we've been trying to heal you up with magic, and you've come a long ways, actually -"

"**_Magic?!_**" Alphonse yelps, dropping his guard due to the high levels of shock he is experiencing. _These people must be crazy!_

"Um, yes," Arthur mutters. He looks at Molly and she shrugs. He blinks and adds: "You're a muggle?"

Alphonse twitches. What is a muggle? He's never heard the term before, but it sounds derogatory. ". . . Muggle?"

"A non-magical human being," Molly explains. "I just don't understand - the way you arrived, it could have only been magic's doing."

He can't tell them the truth: that alchemy was the cause - that he and his brother had to go through this due to a failed human transmutation five years ago. So, he doesn't.

"It's . . . uh, hard to explain." Alphonse answers, a wary and suspicious look making it's way onto his face. If these people believe themselves to be magicians, he seriously doubts he can trust them - or their sanity at least. "How does this magic work? _What did you do to me_?"

Molly and Arthur share a look that doesn't go unnoticed before a voice interjects from above - near the stairs: "Mum used a spell to strengthen your bones and muscles. She's spent a few hours at your side, making sure you're okay."

Alphonse jumps in surprise, his hands instinctively buckling in case he needs to clap them together and perform some quick alchemy, his eyes darting towards a thin girl lingering at the top of the stairs, her pale hands clinging to the wooden banister.

"Ginny!" Molly roars, startling Alphonse even further. "Get back to your room this instant!"

"I'm just trying to help!" the girl argues.

"Listen to your mother!" Arthur says, prompting the girl to roll her eyes and saunter off. Once out of sight, the adults focus back on the frail boy.

"Excuse her," Molly grumbles, "my children are nosy. Always have been - no matter how much I discipline them."

Alphonse blinks, an image of Trisha leaning over him with a gentle smile on her face, coming to mind. _Mom . . ._

For some reason, that statement alone gets Alphonse to see the two as concerned adults, not threats. Perhaps it's because in that moment, in Molly, the affectionate look he saw in her eyes, reminded him of his own mother. It was a look that she used to give him and Edward often when they had been children. And over the littlest of things.

He straightens up with a shaky breath. "I'm sorry for being so rude," he says softly, "I'm just confused about all this."

Both Molly and Arthur seem pleased and visibly relax. "No, it's understandable." Molly trills, "Waking up in a strange place with unfamiliar people hovering over you; it's bound to be terrifying."

"Yeah . . ." Alphonse mumbles, looking away, feeling depressed, "I'm guessing no one showed up with me, huh?"

"No, just yourself." Molly cocks her head to the side. "Why do you ask?"

Because of Edward, obviously - "My brother, he . . . I have to go look for him!"

"Not in that condition!" Molly screeches, approaching Alphonse and snatching one of his wrists. She tugs him back to the sofa and makes him sit. "Besides," she adds, "do you plan on going alone?"

"I'll be fine! Promise!" the fifteen-year-old says, trying to rise to his feet again - only to be pushed back down.

"You're just a _child_ for heaven's sake! Close in age to my Ronald, no doubt!"

Normally, Alphonse would like the concept of someone treating him like a child, doting and caring (because he never had it growing up), but not right now. Not when his brother may be injured, lost, or _worse_. He doesn't like to think about it and he doesn't want to acknowledge that his brother is possibly in a frightening situation, but . . .

He shakes at the thought and clears his head. It's all he can do to keep going.

"It's been a long time since I was a child, Mrs. Weasley." he retorts, pauses, then: "I have to go. Thank you for everything -"

"I understand that finding a family member is important, but in your current state, you'll only end up getting yourself killed - and where will that end you up at, huh? I'm sure your brother wouldn't want that, either!" Molly says, her words striking a chord.

He clamps his eyelids shut tight. _She's right._

Immediately he feels regret - what's the purpose of having his body if he can't protect those he cares for? He knew his body was weak from years of neglect within the Gate, he knew it, and yet he selfishly took the chance to reunite with it. He should have fought harder to prevent Edward from giving up his alchemy in exchange for such a useless younger brother . . .

"Y-yeah . . ." he says weakly, refusing to meet either Arthur's or Molly's eyes - if he does, he might lose control, and he can't afford that. "Would you . . . would you mind if I stayed here until I get better? I have no idea where I am - but I hate to impose - and you can refuse -"

Molly cuts him off with a warm smile. "Stay as long as you like."

Alphonse's eyes widen in genuine surprise, the corners of his lips twitching upward. How is that he and Edward manage to stumble across some of the most kind people during their travels? He can only hope that he doesn't bring ruin to this family - because he won't forgive himself - like he and Edward had to the Hughes. He winces, the wound still fresh in his heart.

No, he refuses to let that happen again.

"Thank you, Mrs. -"

"Just Molly, hearing Mrs. Weasley makes me feel older than the dirt in the ground!"

"Hah, Molly, my bad, thank you for your hospitality, but . . ." he trails off, rubbing at the back of his head in a sheepish manner.

Arthur rubs the bridge of his nose with an index finger and sighs. "You know, you can just spit it out, lad, we're not mind-readers and we're most certainly not going to bite ya!"

Alphonse chuckles and nods. "Care to explain magic to me?"

**TBC**

* * *

**_This chapter is mainly is a building block - as the first few chapters tend to be. It mainly involved the boys finding out about magic and Alphonse waking up. I didn't plan on the scene to be so long between Al and Molly, but it turned out that way because I felt I needed all the dialogue there in order for it to be believable. _**

**_As for Al's defensive behavior, he was confused and dazed - he thought his brother was going to be with him - and when he realized he wasn't felt threatened by Molly and Arthur, thinking they could have done something to Ed. I hope that's obvious in his actions!_**


	3. Aluminum

**_A/N: _**_Once thanks for the awesome support! That includes guest reviews and those that have their PM turned off (if it wasn't off I would reply). It means so much to me! T.T There is one guest review that I'd like to answer: _

_**cheshirecatgrin:** I completely understand what you mean! A lot of times, a reunion between the two isn't all that grand - but I promise that I have a heartfelt one planned! I have a soft spot for their brotherly bond, after all. (;_

_******I'm using the appearances of the HP cast based on descriptions I found on Harry Potter wiki. I've noticed that they tend to vary from story to story, so I'm trying to find something constant. I've noticed Harry's eyes are sometimes described as blue and sometimes green in fics. Very confusing. _

_*****Also, this takes some of the story from the book and movie and combines them. Everything is definitely more fleshed out in the books - but it would take a ridiculous amount of time to write with the plot I've got planned. In the book, Hermione spends a lot of her summer at the Weasleys, yet in the movie, it comes across as Harry spending time there and doesn't really explain it. A little bit of both is going to happen._

* * *

**_3. _**_Aluminum_

* * *

Alphonse sits quietly at the kitchen table, golden gaze curiously taking in the sights around him. It doesn't take him long to decide that the Weasleys need to invest in a garage or extra storage room, because it's overly cluttered and a bit messy. But on a positive note, it does have its charms. For instance, he's learned that Molly and Arthur have seven children, all based on the various photographs in the living room (where he woke up a few hours ago), there are trinkets and postcards out that give the house a homely vibe, and the atmosphere is filled with nothing but joy and love - something he's not experience in a long time.

Of course, this experience is tainted by one thing: his discovery of magic. He had been skeptical at first, but when Molly and Arthur conjured _a table out of thin air_, he couldn't help but drop all preconceptions and believe them.

There's no equivalent exchange - and all the laws are bypassed with a wave of a magic stick and a few odd words. It's unlike anything he's seen before, and his mind can't even begin to theorize how it's possible. Even with his vast knowledge of the truth, the multiple times he's passed through the Gate, and it's as if he just can't comprehend it - and he can't.

Molly suddenly halts what she's doing - preparing a late lunch - and turns towards Alphonse. "It might be a lot to ask, but you wouldn't mind meeting my children now, hmm? We have a seven, but only four are currently living with us."

The young alchemist shakes his head. "No, of course not," he says, "this is your house, after all! I'm just a guest!"

The woman chuckles. "That may be true, but we didn't get off on the right foot - and I didn't want to make you uncomfortable meeting more strangers so quickly and on such short notice."

"It's fine!" Alphonse insists with a weak smile, his eyes involuntarily flickering to the stew that Molly has nearly prepared. He almost can't shake the happiness that _stew_ is going to be the first thing he eats after finally regaining his body, but, he also can't swallow how sad he feels that it isn't_ Winry's apple pie_ - it had always been on the top of his list of foods he wanted to try first.

Molly gives him a skeptical look, but eventually accepts his words as the truth and yells loudly (nearly causing him to jump from his chair): "Come on down kids! We have a new guest I'd like you to meet!"

Immediately loud stomping from the upper level(s) of the house can be heard - vaguely reminding Alphonse of a herd of cattle running - and five redheads invade the room (one of which is Arthur, whom is the only calm one) and nab a seat around the table. Alphonse ends up in the middle of a boy about his age and another that's probably a year or two older (his brother would lament the latter's height).

"Don't smother him!" Molly scolds, waving her wand. The chairs on either side of Alphonse scoot over a few inches, a gesture he's thankful for. Molly gives a pleased nod and motions towards the boy on the opposite side of the table. "Everyone, this is Alphonse Elric, please be nice to him, he's a guest here," she then commences with the introductions.

The two on the other side of the table, facing Alphonse with curious expressions, is George - a tall seventeen-year-old with shaggy hair and dark eyes and no doubt the twin of one of the boy's sitting beside him - and Ginny - the girl from when he first woke up; she's cute: thin, but not overly so, long, red hair, and brown eyes.

Beside him, the boy about his age, is Ronald - Ron for short and his preferred name - he's a pale, freckly fourteen-year-old that seems a little bit sarcastic, but overall, someone Alphonse will get along with. The other boy beside him is Fred: the twin of George (he should have known) and the two are identical in appearance.

After the introductions, he's bombarded with questions:

"How did you just pop up like that?"

"I've never seen an apparition spell quite like that -"

"You're scrawnier than my best friend Harry -"

"Where are you from? Because you have some really cool looking eyes -"

"Almost like a were -"

"ENOUGH!" Molly screeches, successfully silencing her children, levitating bowls of stew before each person at the table along with silverware. "Leave 'em be, it's none of your business, anyhow."

Alphonse sighs with relief. She's a lifesaver.

* * *

"What are ya doin', Ed?" Hagrid inquires, poking his head into the living room where Edward is sprawled across the couch, legs kicked up, a large map clutched tightly in his hands. Edward peeks up at him and sighs.

"Just studying some of the roads, towns, landmarks," he mumbles, eyebrows knotting together in pure frustration. This England place is huge - not to mention the fact the map looks completely different from the all the ones in Amestris - it's as if he's on a different planet! It's frustrating and makes absolutely no sense.

He wouldn't be so upset if it didn't remind him just how difficult it will be to find his baby brother. He grits his teeth in frustration. He wants nothing more than to kick, scream, and pull all his hair out! He's nothing but a failure - his brother, _the only person he loves more than life itself_, the only person he can truly rely upon, is out in the world somewhere - that much he's decided is certain in the past few hours, he's mulled it over and determined that since they both walked through the Gate, Alphonse is out here somewhere, too - malnourished and his muscles atrophied. He'll be lucky if he can walk at all.

Which means that Alphonse is a sitting duck, vulnerable and defenseless.

He momentarily panics, hopping from the couch, pacing back and forth, cursing under his breath, a tirade of scenarios where _Alphonse gets hurt or dies_ plaguing his mind like a disease, devouring him. Hagrid can only watch, confused.

"Is something the matter?"

Edward stops and glares at him. "_Of course there's something the matter_, you mountain man! _My brother_ is out there somewhere - and**_ I_** need to find him! But this place is so damn big it's going to be difficult! Can't we use _magic_ to find him?"

Hagrid sighs, a sympathetic expression adorning his hairy visage. "I'm afraid not."

"What's the fucking point of having this _all-powerful_ magic if you don't even have a spell that can help you locate someone?!" Edward rants, stomping around the room, irritated with his inability to help Alphonse.

Really, it always comes down to that. How many times has Alphonse stuck his neck out to save him? When he was a suit of armor, he always took hits to help Edward, pushing him out-of-the-way, protecting him, and then - before this - he sacrificed himself to give Edward back his arm. He's never felt such pain before, knowing that there was a possibility that his brother died - that he would never see him again.

Now, he's facing the same situation again.

If Alphonse wasn't in such a horrible state, he wouldn't be as concerned, but concerned nonetheless. If he wasn't so thin, _so weak_, he would find some solace in the fact that Alphonse could at least defend himself. But he isn't getting that benefit - and it's eating him up.

But . . . what can he do?

_Where_ _can he even begin?_

* * *

"You think he's a threat?"

Ron glances up from a magazine in his hands, eyebrows raised in his sister's direction. She has a distant look in her eyes as she peers discretely across the study to where Alphonse is, reading a book - and completely indulged. They had tried to talk to him a few times, but he's completely managed to drown them out. If Hermione were there, she would commend the boy on his ability to get lost in a book, much like herself. _Bloody bookworms_.

"Nah, he seems normal enough, other than his eyes, that is," Ron answers in a hushed whisper - just in case Alphonse decides to listen at some point. "He's got those werewolf eyes. You never know when he might turn."

Ginny rolls her eyes. "Now, you're just making hasty assumptions," she admonishes. "If he wanted to hurt us, he would do it right now," she adds, leaning in closely, "because, according to mum, despite his size, he was able to _break out of her hold_ earlier _and_ knock her back."

"Oh," Ron begins dryly, clearly not amused, "that certainly doesn't scream 'threat'."

"Don't get fresh with me," she hisses, plopping back in her seat with her arms crossed. Ron shakes his head and goes back to reading his magazine, only to be interrupted again when the door to the study opens and in walks Molly with cup of steaming liquid; another potion for Alphonse, no doubt.

He turns out to be right when his mother goes to the boy's side, offering him the drink. He thanks her and takes the cup, cringing when the steam goes up his nostrils. Ron resists the urge to laugh - most potions smell and taste awful. His mother urges the boy to drink it.

"It's not poisonous?" Alphonse questions, looking up at Molly, unconvinced. She places her hands on her hips and gives a menacing look in return. Ron and Ginny both shiver, hating to be on the receiving end of that look. Alphonse, on the other hand, seems unfazed, but still uncertain about the cup's contents.

"Of course it's not poisonous!" she seethes, "I'm trying to help you, not kill you!"

Alphonse peers down at the warm liquid, face tense. "Um, but what is it? It doesn't look like the other drinks you've given me."

"I've given you strengthening potion for the past two days. Now, it's time to give you a different one," Molly answers, "this will restore the nutrients in your body - help you point on weight and grow."

That's something that Ron would like to see for Alphonse - he's far too thin, obviously. He can still recall the way he looks without clothes, his hips unnaturally jutted out, his ribs protruding, his stomach sunken almost to his spine, and his skin deathly pale. He's never seen such a sight before and he hopes to never again see it.

Again, it makes him wonder just what this boy has went through.

"I guess, I need that, huh?" Alphonse chimes with a soft chuckle, "Thank you, Molly."

Molly seems pleased with the answer and smiles. "You're welcome, now drink up! You'll be drinking that for the next few days and then we'll start you on a muscle regeneration potion."

Alphonse bobs his head and sips on the potion, shivering at the grotesque taste. Ron clamps a hand over his mouth to suppress his laughter at the sight; he knows how bad potions tend to taste, but seeing someone else's face while they drink one is hilarious.

After downing it and handing it back to Molly, Alphonse looks up at her with an apologetic smile. "Um, do you have any idea how long it will take before I'll be in good enough shape to leave?"

"I'd say in about a month and a half."

Alphonse looks disappointed at the answer, something that confuses Ron. Shouldn't he be happy? If he were to heal via muggle techniques, it would take almost a year for someone in his condition.

He really doesn't understand this boy at all.

* * *

Edward is beyond frustrated.

Over the course of two days, he's went to local towns, asking around if anyone has seen Alphonse - using a well-drawn picture of him (self-made) and verbal description, even saying his name (his brother always has been overly friendly), but no one, _absolutely no one_, has.

The old fart, Dumbledore, hasn't been of much assistance, neither has Hagrid, and he's gradually becoming more and more concerned, frustrated, irate, and restless.

He has just gotten back after visiting another town and is exhausted from the lengthy train ride. He's learned that they have technology that they don't in Amestris (which he's beginning to wonder if Truth has pushed them through into the future) and that the train's are a lot nicer. He's also noticed that cars go faster, look different, and function different. It's strange - overwhelming - and it pisses him off!

"Nothing here is familiar!" he snaps to no one in particular (Hagrid's out back feeding some strange-looking animal that he had mistaken as a chimera earlier) and throws his coat (Dumbledore gave him money to buy a few things) on the back of a chair at the dining table. He trudges towards the guest room that he's staying in and collapse on the bed, eyes clamped shut and his fingers rubbing circular motions against his temples.

If he doesn't figure out something soon . . .

No, he can't think like that! For Alphonse's sake - and for his own. His little brother is _his life_ - without him, he's nothing - has no purpose or anything. He will be alone, even though he has Granny Pinako, Winry, and Mustang's team, because they're not Alphonse.

"There has to be something I can do . . ." he murmurs, rolling onto his side and clutching at the sheets strewn haphazardly across the bed.

Then, without warning, there's streak of light and a crackled - and the old man is standing before him. He jumps, startled. "Fuck, old man! Don't do that!"

Dumbledore chuckles. "I apologize, Edward," he says, "I've just come to make a suggestion. One that you may not like."

Edward frowns. _That_ doesn't sound very appealing to him. "Well, don't keep me waiting: shoot."

Dumbledore seems to hesitate a moment, as if contemplating whether or not he should continue, or perhaps he's surprised that Edward is interested in listening. The sixteen-year-old scoffs. He doesn't know him enough to make such assumptions - _they just met two days ago!_

"There's a spell that will allow me into your memories," he finally says, "I may even see what happened to your brother."

Edward scowls. He knows what happened - they were separated at the Gate. He won't find out anything new. "No. That won't work."

Dumbledore looks at him with raised eyebrows. Edward's already counting down the seconds until he asks why it won't work - when he says: "Very well then." He gapes at the old man. No prying? That's a new one - and yet, it ups his respect for Dumbledore - he's so used to others prodding for answers out of him. "Something wrong?"

"No," Edward says, "I'm just impressed, old man." He crosses his arms. "I didn't have to tell you off to get you off my back."

"I don't like to think myself difficult to get along with, young man." Dumbledore laughs. "You certainly are interesting. I only hope we can help you reunite with your brother. If you can't do you have any idea where you'll go?"

Edward feels the corners of his lips pull downward. "I'll never give up on looking for Al." He glances down at his emancipated right arm - the arm that he had sacrificed for his brother, the one his brother bravely gave back to him, not knowing whether or not he would survive, a pain rippling deep in his chest.

Dumbledore must sense this, because he gives Edward a heartfelt look, one that reeks of pity, sadness, and understanding all at the same time. But neither Elric brother has appreciated pity - they've never wanted it.

"Don't give me that look," he tells Dumbledore coldly, "I don't want your pity or anyone else's for that matter."

His words, while harsh, wipe any traces of pity from Dumbledore's face completely, leaving him pleased with himself that he got his point across so easily. He's noticed that most tend to argue with him, try and cheer him up, but he's never needed that. Edward and Alphonse have always set a goal before themselves and focused on it; it gets them through the hard times. Why fix something that's not broken?

Dumbledore seemingly mulls something over - something that Edward would really like to know - and raises a hand to stroke his beard. "I must be on my way then," he says, "I will check in with you again very soon."

Afterwards he pulls out his wand and disappears with another crackle and poof.

* * *

"I'm finally here," Hermione Granger mumbles to herself, her eyes glued to The Burrow, hands tightening around the suitcase in her grasp. She takes a deep breath through her nostrils, her chest puffing out, and exhales with exuberance, nothing able to quell the elation she feels as she practically glides to the front door.

She's spending her last month of summer with the Weasleys - with one of her best friends, Ron - and will be attending the World Quidditch Cup Final between Ireland and Bulgaria near the end of August. She's been looking to it for the past few weeks, her and Ron, despite a few sarcastic remarks and banters, enthusiastically writing back and forth until today.

The fourteen-year-old bounces on her toes as she knocks on the door, waiting patiently for someone to let her in. When Ron opens the door she flings an arm around his neck and nearly knocks him down. "Gee, 'Mione, just take me out while I'm not expecting it!" Ron admonishes without any bitterness in his voice.

"Well, you deserve it," she retorts, pulling away with a smile. "Now are you going to invite me in or not?"

"You've kind of already let yourself in!" He gestures to her feet which have already crossed the threshold without permission. Not that she exactly need as such. She is always welcome - for the most part.

The two exchange sarcastic sentiments a moment longer, before Hermione's attention is drawn elsewhere - to a thin, golden-haired boy on the couch that is looking at the two curiously. She blinks. "Ronald," she says, clearing her throat. He stops in the middle of a decidedly rude comment and looks at her. She gestures towards the boy. "Are you going to introduce me to your new friend or what?"

"Oh, right, sorry!" Ron grabs one of Hermione's wrist and guides her to the couch to where the frail male sits, a smile flashing on his face at her. She decides, that if he weren't so thin and his hair not so long, he'd be attractive; straight teeth, unique hair and eyes color, and a nose that isn't hooked or overly curved. "Hermione, this," he gestures towards the boy, "is Alphonse Elric; Alphonse, this," he sweeps his hand in Hermione's direction, "is Hermione Granger."

The boy, Alphonse, extends a bony hand in Hermione's direction. Her lips curve and she gladly accepts. "Nice to meet you, Alphonse!"

"Likewise," he chimes, "but you don't have to be so formal - please, call me Al."

She bobs her head. "Okay, Al, when did you and Ron become friends?"

"Well, we don't really know each other," he admits, rubbing the back of his head, "I just kind of showed up four days ago."

"It was pretty amazing! There was this weird spell, a flash of light, and next thing we knew, this bloke fell from the ceiling! Landed on the table -_ naked!_" Ron elaborates, flailing his arms frantically. "I think Ginny is traumatized for life."

Hermione's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, her eyes shifting from Ron to Alphonse and back again. "Do you know how you got here, Al?"

Shock and pain riddles his expression, but he quickly hides it, shaking his head. _Strange,_ Hermione thinks to herself, _he's hiding something_. "No . . ."

"Does you have a way home? Relatives?" she presses - when a sharp pain in her side snatches her attention. She hisses and looks over at Ron with an accusing gaze. He gives her a look that she understands: she's crossed the line. Which means, that family must be a sensitive topic for Alphonse. She blushes at her ignorance. "You don't have to answer that, I apologize for prying."

"Eh, she has quite a knack for sticking her nose where it doesn't belong!" Ron chortles wholeheartedly - only to receive a slap on the back of the head, courtesy of Hermione, of course.

"_Ronald!_" she seethes, glaring daggers at him. The redhead merely grins while Hermione focuses back on Alphonse. "Really, I am sorry."

"No, it's okay," Alphonse replies, "you didn't know."

**TBC**

* * *

**_That's all for now! _**

**_Honestly, I had an additional scene in the process (this one is a little shorter than the others), but realized that it would work much better in the next chapter and in different context. The next chapter is one that I've thoroughly been enjoying writing and I hope you like it as much as I do (I can't wait to post it)!_**

**_Anyways, please tell me what you think! I'd really appreciate it - and reviews inspire me to update! *Wink* *Wink* ^w^_**


	4. Potassium

**_A/N: _**_This chapter was done before I posted the last one. It's weird to be so ahead. Anyways, thanks to those that took the time to share your thoughts! I really appreciate it!_

_**Brick:** I'm glad you're enjoying Al's involvement! I feel exactly the same - so many exclude him, or if he IS apart of it, he gets such a little role and is pushed to the background (usually acting like a wimp that can't defend himself - which irks me). That's why I am including him so much - that and he's my favorite character. xD_

**_**_**_I made a complete estimate to what Alphonse's weight would be. Eighty pounds might seem like a lot for how long he went without eating, but you've got to consider the fact that if he was anything less, being a male, plus his height, he would have died (most likely). You also have to remember how Ed was Al's source of life in the Gate - he was eating and sleeping for them both, which means he weighs more than someone that was just starved (he wouldn't have lasted over a few months if that were the case). _

_**Note:** I am not familiar with the Brits way of weight system, therefore I'm just going to use what I know - the U.S. way. Sorry if that bugs anyone - I just want it to be constant._

_**ALSO:** I accidentally said that George and Fred are seventeen - they are NOT that old. They are SIXTEEN. Sorry!_

_But yeah, the first scene in this story should have already happened, but with the stresses of getting settled in Al didn't really get the time to do this. That's why it's so in depth!_

* * *

**_4._** _Potassium_

* * *

It takes a week for things Molly to stop fussing relentlessly over Alphonse, and when it does, he couldn't be anymore relieved. During the entire first week, she had him confined to a bed - _"Your muscles and bones aren't ready to support your weight just yet!"_ - where he was forced to indulge in some of the most grotesque foods and potions in order to stabilize his frail body. Though, in the end, he supposes it was worth it, because he can now stand, walk, and run on his own. He's even managed to gain ten pounds during that week.

According to Molly, they needed to weigh him so they could monitor his progress properly.

He had only weighed eighty pounds; his goal is to get to one-hundred and ten by the end of the month, maybe more (he's got it in his head that he's going to eat like a horse, and with Molly's tendency to cook enough to feed a small army, it won't be a problem). If he manages that, then he can finally start looking for his brother.

For now, he has become interested in actually adjusting to his body - relearning what he had forgotten - which wasn't just being fascinated by the textures, temperatures, and weight of objects, or how it is to be able to smell and breathe again. Nope, there are a plethora of other senses, feelings, and urges he has to get used to.

Physical exhaustion, for instance, was so foreign at first that he had a hard time identifying just what it was that he was feeling. But when he laid his head down, his eyes heavy, his thoughts slowing (which was a miracle in and of itself as his mind hasn't properly shut down in five years), and he was swept away, he knew what it was that his body craved: sleep.

Then there is nausea. It_ sucks_. He first experienced it again during dinner the first day he arrived in the Weasleys. Molly had prepared a casserole, something he's always loved to indulge in, and he gorged himself on it. He ate roughly four helpings before he had to excuse himself to go to the bathroom, worried his body was rejecting his soul - he felt that bad! - and locked himself in the tiny space, while his stomach rolled. Eventually he had a strange sensation in his throat and he just knew what to do: he leaped to the toilet and emptied his stomach of its contents.

Another strange _urge_ is when he needs to go to the bathroom. He had downed four glasses of water upon waking the first day he was there due to his throat being so parched, that when he became uncomfortable he was slightly confused and wondering why his ahem -_ manhood_ - ahem had a sharp pain - but quickly realized what it was and had to be shown where to alleviate himself.

But the most odd sensation for him out of them all, which is really odd, is when his skin tingles in random places as if a feather has rubbed against it, requiring him to scratch it. Before he lost his body, he hadn't been ticklish, but now that he has it back, he has to be the most ticklish person he knows! When someone pokes him in the sides, he jumps, when someone barely grazes their finger across his skin, he shivers, and he actually likes it because it means that he is back in his body - he can feel - _he is alive_.

Of course, on the downside, that also means his skin is susceptible scratchy, pokey, or rougher textures. Which is unfortunate for him, because it seems that the only clothes Molly gives him to wear consists scratchy-as-hell sweaters (he won't even go outside since it's August) and stiff jeans. He wants to complain so bad about it, but he can't bring himself to - her and her family have already done so much for him. To complain in the slightest would just be wrong.

He yawns and sits up in his bed, glancing at the clock by his bedside that reads '8:13am'. Perfect. He pulls his long hair back in a ponytail and climbs down in the floor to try some stretches to work out the soreness in his rapidly growing muscles and stiff joints.

That brings up another sensation - one that isn't exactly his favorite in the least bit (but understandable why his reactions are so poor towards it considering he hasn't felt it in such a long time): **pain. **

The third day in the house, he was limping back to his bed when he his toe met one of its metal legs, successfully stubbing the digit. He had collapsed and cursed the bed and its maker with the mouth of a sailor. Even _Edward_ would have been offended and appalled at the profane scene. It isn't his proudest moment, but he embraces it because it's his first, minor, albeit real, experience of pain after regaining his body.

Besides, he will toughen up before too long. After all, he still needs to prove to his older brother that he can whoop him.

Alphonse places his feet out in front of him and reaches for his toes, surprising himself when he actually manages to grab them. He figured his body would be as limber as a piece of sheet metal after all these years of disuse. He grins.

Perhaps getting in shape won't be so difficult - and he only has_ magic_ to thank for it. To think, just last week he would never have believed magic to be possible, but after spending a week with the Weasleys, seeing what their potions and wands can do, he has no choice but to believe. In other words: he may accept it, but he doesn't understand it.

In an attempt to, he's been spending some time in the family's study (when Molly let him get out his room, and when she didn't she would bring him some books to keep him busy), which is stocked full of magical textbooks, research journals, and encyclopedias. He understands the words, can remember the strange phrases and incantations for spells, combination of ingredients for potions, and the step-by-step procedures that are gone over, but still . . .

How is there no Equivalent Exchange? Conservation of matter? Physics? All of this is quantum theory! Yet, _**somehow** it **works** and it is driving him nuts! Bonkers! Insane!_

He's discussed it with Hermione, whom he has found to be the easiest of the household to get along with but a bit of a worrier herself, but she doesn't have an explanation for it either. In her words it _'just does'_. There's no questioning it, no dissecting it, just acceptance.

Alphonse lays on his backs and attempts two sets of sit-ups, after he's done he lays back down, panting and wincing at the burning sensation in his abdominal. This is the only way to get healthy - he will just have to deal with it for now.

He closes his eyes and commences another set.

* * *

After spending a week and a half with Hagrid, Edward starts to become desperate about his brother's whereabouts.

He has no means to travel further than a few towns away and Hagrid's house is his only anchor point - his source of food, shelter, income, and knowledge. He's been mainly focused on studying maps, nearby tourist brochures, and all the towns and cities that are accessible via train, but thanks to Dumbledore, snagging books from Hogwarts' library is easy enough and has helped him understand this_ place_ a little better.

He had been amazed by the castle's vast library and all its contents, wondering just exactly what Hogwarts is - when Dumbledore explained to him that it is a school of witchcraft and wizardry. Though he detested the thought of magic, he can't deny its existence. He's seen Hagrid, Dumbledore, and a few of the staff use it for the most trivial of things: writing, levitating objects, and conjuring things out of thin air. He thought the latter of the three to be sketchy and checked the validity of all the conjured objects, but found them to be as real as he is.

In the past two days, he has become particularly interested magical runes, all of which can be incorporated into alchemy. He purchased a notebook from a store in a nearby town one day before coming back to Hagrid's and began taking notes - mostly pertaining to the runes, but also to certain words that are symbolic - or represent something else (mainly just in case he stumbles upon something coded).

Back on point -

Edward is desperate to get further along in his search for Alphonse. He's made flyers of Alphonse's face and posted them around a few of the towns he's been to in the hopes that if Alphonse were to come across one of those towns, he'd see it. But they haven't been much help either. He has to keep reminding himself that it has only been elven days and that it _is_ possible that Alphonse is in Central City.

If only he had more money . . .

He's interrupted from his thoughts when Dumbledore waltzes into the library, the hems of his blue robes dragging the ground. Edward glances up from the book on a table in front of him and stares at the geezer as he approaches a nearby bookshelf. _What does_ - halt that thought. He purses his lips, maybe he _does_ have a way to make a little more cash.

"Old man," he calls, gaining the headmaster's attention. Dumbledore snatches a book from the shelf real fast and makes his way to Edward with raised eyebrows, not even remotely offended by the nickname he's bestowed upon him (though when he says it in front of a staff member they get all ruffled up - it's hilarious to watch really - and Edward always has enjoyed getting under others' skin).

"How are you today, Edward?"

Edward leans back in his chair, to get a better look at the man. "I am wondering if there's anything I can do around here - like a job."

Dumbledore hums low and rubs at his chin, mulling over his words silently. Edward watches him with a hopeful expression. At this point, he's willing to do anything to up his chances of find Alphonse - even if it means to, dare he say it, _grovel_.

Not knowing where Alphonse is - it hurts - eats at him at night, because if he isn't okay, then that means that his Gate wasn't enough - that Alphonse ended up paying the ultimate price. He growls at himself - it's all his fault: the transmutation - Alphonse had been hesitant but he pressed him to go on with it, because he was selfish - _everything_. Yet, in the end, somehow, Alphonse paid with more than Edward ever could: his entire body. It had almost cost him his life. He clenches his jaw.

It just isn't fair! It's not! _It's not! **It's**_ -

"Actually, I do have something in mind -"

Edward jumps, his self-loathing thoughts momentarily halted, replaced by an overwhelming sense of hope. "You do?! What is it? Come on, old man: _spit it out!_"

Dumbledore looks amused at Edward's enthusiasm and nods. "Well, you see we just hired a new Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher, and even though classes don't start until next month, would you like to be his assistant? When he doesn't need you then you can run errands for some of the other professors. It's decent pay and the hours will allow you time to hunt for your brother."

The former alchemist frowns. He's hoping that he isn't here long enough to accept a job in September, but if he is then it most certainly would be beneficial to his cause. "Alright, I'll do it - but is there anything you need done now?"

"I'll have you fill out the paperwork later, alright?" Edward bobs his head in response. Dumbledore nods and continues, "As for right now, all we have open are jobs in the kitchen. They're mostly filled by house elves -"

"_What the hell is a house elf?!_"

"You've not read any texts on mythical or magical creatures?" Dumbledore inquires with his eyebrows arched high on his withered forehead. Edward shakes his head. "They're very small, have floppy ears, and are hard workers. You'll take nicely to them if you decide to accept my offer."

"To work in the kitchen?"

"Yes."

Edward crosses his arms. It does sound like a good deal, _too bad he's a shitty cook_. "What are the hours?"

"Not as bad as you'd think. During the summer they're ten in the morning until three in the afternoon, Monday through Friday." Edward opens his mouth to decline - because the hours don't correspond with his needs - but Dumbledore beats him to the punch - "However, seeing as I know your need to find your brother, you can take off whenever you please in order to search for him. How does that sound?"

The blond grins. Anyone would be stupid to turn down that offer. "You've gotta deal, pops. When do I start?"

"How about today?"

* * *

Molly feels nothing but relief when she finds Alphonse getting along with her children. They're curious little buggers, but the young blond seems to take it all in stride, answering the questions he wants to and kindly turning down the one he doesn't. Fred and George have tried to play pranks on him - _"It's our way of welcoming him, mum!"_ - but she managed to dig her teeth into them, preventing them from making Alphonse anymore uncomfortable than what he already is.

Ron seems slightly indifferent towards him, including him in conversations and joking with him, but the moment Hermione enters the room, her attention focused on Alphonse, her son becomes a jealous mess. It's cute to see, but embarrassing when he snaps at Hermione (she taught her son to treat women better than that) and promptly exits the room, leaving Alphonse and Hermione both perplexed. Not that Molly can blame them due to Ron's behavior.

Ginny, on the other hand, seems to enjoy Alphonse's company. She says that '_he's nice and his jokes are kindly sarcastic, plus he's intelligent'_. Molly doesn't think her daughter has a crush on Alphonse - she's always been so smitten with Harry. Nevertheless, the relationship has been good for Ginny (she's never been good at talking with boys that aren't her brothers) and being around Alphonse has opened that door for her.

Then there's Hermione.

She's not her daughter, but she's just as much a part of the family as anyone else - and like the others, she gets along with Alphonse, if not the best. The two of them spend a couple of hours in the library together, discussing books, theories, and other things. Hermione has even told her that she's surprised by Alphonse's ability to understand such complex concepts with little to no difficulty, along with his love of books that rivals her own and his innate talent for soaking up information like a sponge.

Molly smiles as she peers in the living room at the children, all talking. _Yes_, everything is going good.

Alphonse's recovery has been astounding. He's filling out quickly thanks to her potions and high-calorie meal plan for him. Within the past two weeks he has gained twenty-two pounds - now weighing in at one-hundred and two and standing at 5'6''.

He insists on helping out with the house chores, but she sternly declines, even though she does appreciate the gesture - but she does fine on her own with magic at her disposal. He's worried that he's being a freeloader, but she doesn't mind. She has to constantly remind the boy that her and Arthur invited him into their household as a guest, not a servant. It's just a matter of getting that through his head.

It only makes her more curious as to what he's been through. He acts as if he has to work hard just to deserve a bite to eat. The thought pains her.

"I just got our tickets to the Quidditch World Cup Final," Arthur announces shortly after apparating into the kitchen where Molly is. She glances towards him, her expression conveying that she is not amused in the least bit.

"I told you Arthur: I'm not goin'."

Arthur snorts. "I know you're not, dear. I only bought enough for me, the kids, Hermione, Harry -"

"You got Alphonse one, too, right?" She narrows her eyes and raises a hand, pointing at him. "You better not exclude that child -"

"I got him one. I was just about to say it, but you interrupted me." Arthur answers, taking a seat beside his wife and snatching up one of her hands. "You underestimate my intelligence. I won't exclude him because of his circumstances, however, I am wondering when we are going to tell Dumbledore about him."

Molly sighs. She's been considering that ever since Alphonse has shown up. But she's just gotten _so attached_ to him in such a short while, especially after she finally got him to talk about his family in private - his parents aren't a part of his life, haven't been since he was very little, and he and his brother have been on their own ever since, taking care of each other. How can she not feel a strong urge to mother the boy? He's been through so much.

"Not until after the World Cup, how does that sound? He'll be better by then and possibly willing to talk."

Arthur shrugs. "That sounds reasonable."

* * *

A few words about Edward's new job? _Kitchen from hell. _

Over the course of five days (due to him having to use 'muggle' methods to cook), he has managed to catch two house elves on fire, blow up a turkey and a five-layer caked which ended up all over him and anyone in the kitchen at the time. He gave Minerva McGonagall food poisoning, had Severus Snape confined to the bathroom for five hours, and made Madame Pomfrey's lips fester up as a result of accidentally putting nuts - she's allergic - in a cake _that doesn't even call for nuts_.

To ensure nothing of the sort happens again, Dumbledore has assigned a house elf to Edward's hip at all times. When Edward needs something cooked, he and the house elf make it together. When he needs to clean something up (he accidentally poured a cleaning chemical on one of the house elves - that was a mess), the house elf helps him. It's annoying, but understandable.

In the end, those past five days were worth it, because he now has enough money to spend a few nights away, traveling from town to town without hinder, upping his chances of finding Alphonse.

Currently he is searching a town called Little Whinging. It took him a long time to get here, but now that he has, he isn't wasting any time (he's used to the odd auto-mobiles - they had been a shock - and the strange fashion most people wear). He's stopped by just about every house, describing his brother and flashing pictures he had drawn of him, saying his name, anything to get a lead.

So far all his efforts have proven useless . . .

One of his last stops for the day is one of the houses on Privet Drive. It's nice, like the other surrounding houses, its lawn trimmed, the flowerbeds well-maintained, and lights that line the walkway to the porch. It's roughly seven in the afternoon, not too late to go snooping, but too late to keep it up (well, _that_ and his train leaves soon).

Edward raises a hand to the door and knocks. A moment later he can hear shuffling and whines of_ 'why do I always have to answer the door?'_ before said door comes flying open, revealing a beefy, older man with hardly no neck and a thick line of hair on his upper lip. His beady blue eyes only convey one thing in their depths: pure irritation.

The man looks at Edward for just a brief moment before turning his head to the side, "Dudley! I think this is one of your friends! He's small -"

Edward growls. "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL THAT HE COULD BE MISTAKEN AS PAPA SMURF?!"

The man looks at him as if he's grown a second head before shuffling out of the way, quickly replaced by an equally chunky teen about Edward's age. He looks him over once and frowns. "I don't even know you!" He points an accusing finger at Edward, whom, once again, doesn't get the chance to say what he wants to - "Harry! I think it's for you!" Dudley gives Edward a holier-than-thou look before storming back inside.

_Just who the hell are these people? They're rude as fuck - and that means a lot coming from a guy with no manners himself!_

Edward waits a few minutes, becoming increasingly irritated, when a mop of onyx hair catches his attention. A boy, much thinner than Dudley and the other man in comparison, with glasses framing almond-shaped green irises, and nearly the same height as Edward, emerges from the house. The boy eyes him with an apprehensive gaze, a frown slowly forming on his lips.

"Um, do I know you?"

"No, but I am wondering if you've seen a boy that looks like this -" He removes drawing of Alphonse out of his pocket. "Hair and eyes the same color as mine - really skinny and fifteen-years-old. His name is Alphonse Elric."

The boy contemplates his question a moment, then finally shakes his head. Edward feels his stomach knot up in disappointment (a sensation that he's grown accustomed to throughout the years). "I'm sorry, uh . . ."

"Edward Elric. Thanks for answering my question - I best be on my way then."

"No problem, Edward - I'm Harry Potter, by the way," the boy - _Harry_ - says, a saddened expression on his face. There's a moment of (uncomfortable) silence where both look anywhere but each other. Then: "Is he your brother?"

"Yeah, my younger," Edward answers, turning away. "Thanks again, Harry."

"Sure. No problem."

* * *

"- the potion was a _little_ strong -" George's voice rings throughout the twins' bedroom where Ron and Alphonse find themselves. Ginny and Hermione are in the former's room, discussing '_girly things that doesn't concern them_' - Hermione's words, not his.

"- his armpit hair grew so long that it touched the floor -" Fred adds, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"- and he tripped because the hair got under both his feet!" George finishes proudly, as if concocting a potion that rapidly increases the growth of armpit hair is just amazing and should have been patented a long time ago (but in Alphonse's opinion is a little gross). Apparently, Ron agrees with his siblings and smacks his knees, hunched over as he chortles loudly.

"That's just_ bloody amazing!_" Ron says after recovering from his rib breaking laughter, rubbing at an imaginary tear near the corner of his right eye. "Is that one of the days you got detention from Snape?"

George and Fred share a look and say in unison: "Not sure."

"With our knack for getting detention, we can't recall every incident." Fred answers with a shrug. He then focuses on Alphonse - and for some reason, the alchemist has a feeling that he _isn't_ going to like the attention in the least bit. "So, you're a muggle? No magical capabilities whatsoever?"

Alphonse blinks. "I'm not sure, honestly, but I am an alchemist."

All three give him blank looks. He frowns. "Did I say something wrong . . ?"

Ron shakes his head. "No, it's just - alchemy isn't practiced anymore -"

_Time out._ Alphonse can only gawk, no doubt scaring the others with expression hanging on his face and the confusion oozing from every pore on his body. None of this is making sense! Just where the hell has he ended?! He needs to know.

The problem, however, is that he just can't demanded such nonsense. He's certain that the Weasleys will think he's a freak, scoundrel, _lunatic_! He feels his jaw slowly tighten back into its proper position - he can't say anything, he'll have to find answers on his own.

"Right," he chimes (a ruse to cover his trail), "well, I just always had a passion for science. Especially alchemy; I thought it'd be something interesting to look into." They don't seem convinced.

"Well, what can you do with it? Want to show us?" George asks, excitement etched on all three boys' visages. Alphonse gulps - and he always claims that Edward is the one that attracts trouble. He's been in denial a long time.

"Um, maybe after I'm better." They appear disappointed, but he can't help but feel relieved. He's noticed they don't tend to pressure him when he mentions the state his body is in (he's not proud of it, but he has no other excuse except 'I don't wanna talk about it', but that can only work for so long).

Ron props his right elbow up on his knee and rests his chin in the upturned palm of his hand. "Is there _anything_ you _can_ tell us, mate?"

"What do you mean?"

"Details! How does this alchemy work?" George exclaims as if it should be obvious, crossing his arms. Alphonse sighs. _Of course the twins would want to know_, if only to aid them in their pranks. It seems as if they live and breathe just to torment others in order to get a kick out of it.

"There's a lot to it," Alphonse murmurs, scratching the back of his head. "First there's comprehension: understanding the composition of a an object. The second step is deconstruction: breaking down an object into a more malleable form. And lastly, there's reconstruction: molding the object into your desired shape or form."

The twins and their younger sibling blink, lost. Alphonse sighs. He knew this would happen. It takes at least a few month of thorough research to comprehend the basics of alchemy (including its laws and precautions). "It's kind of hard to understand at first . . ." he points out.

They shrug and pick up another conversation. Alphonse can only breathe a sigh of relief.

**:**

**:**

**:**

**:**

**:**

_(Date, time, and location: **unknown**)_

_"I found these, but they're barely alive. Don't even look human enough to deal with . . ."_

_"**Fool**, can't you feel the faint energy flowing through them?"_

_"F-Forgive me, My Lord!"_

_"Take them - feed them human life."_

_"B-But how, sire?"_

_"**Blood**."_

**TBC**

* * *

_**So, an underlying issue surfaces! What can it be?! xD**_

_**I felt this chapter was written better than the others for some reason. I think it might be that I got to focus more on Ed and Al's thoughts on the whole situation and how they are dealing with it. That and the only scenes that contained much dialogue were the last two - and unfortunately, dialogue is something I've been working on when it comes to my writing style. I'm better at over analyzing internal feelings that are expressed through description rather than through dialogue addressed from one character to another. It's a pain, but I feel I've gotten better.**_

_**Anyways, as always, pleases share your thoughts! Is there anything you think I need to work on? Should be addressed? PLEASE let ME know. Every little thing helps!**_


	5. Titanium

**_A/N: _**_You all are amazing! I've some interesting conversations with many of you - and some of you even managed to inspire certain scenes, dialogue, etc.. I really appreciate the support you've given for this story and I hope I don't disappoint you!_

**_** _**_I am soo proud of myself right now! I just completed my outline for this story! It ended up being ten pages long - but now I have a full guideline to go by. I never realized how handy it is to have one. I usually wing-it and just go with the flow. NEVER AGAIN._

**_cheshirecatgrin: _**_YES. Alphonse does still have his alchemy! He just hasn't had a chance to show his skills off. Yet. (;_

_**The QAS:** I love your mega-review. It's very insightful and I thought it definitely deserved a reply. You actually got me thinking on a few things that I completely overlooked - like why Ron hasn't told Harry of Al in letters - and thanks to you, that minor plot hole is now covered! As for Arthur's obsession with muggles - that will have to wait until later. But I DO want to include that at some point in this! Thanks again for your help and kind words!_

**_xx (important):_**_ I've decided that after this chapter to slow down my updates. School starts next and I have so much to get done before then! It's going to be more difficult to get everything done (because I'm going to have a shit ton of homework and I'm getting a job for the weekends), but this WILL get finished. It's my baby right now. xD_

* * *

_**5.** Titanium_

* * *

Initially, Hermione didn't know what to think of Alphonse Elric, but now, after spending a week with him, she has come to a conclusion: she likes him. Not in the 'I want to marry this boy and have his children' sense, but as in a fellow peer and bookworm sense. She's never met anyone with such a strong attraction to literature as herself, not to mention the fact that he can understand complex texts that even she has a difficult time grasping. They can literally discuss theories, magical concepts, creatures, laws, and such for hours on end. Too say the Elric is becoming a fast best friend of hers is an understatement.

Of course he's not without his flaws.

She's noticed that he has a tendency to withdraw, a distant look in his eyes as he does so. And in those moments, she realizes that she's never seen eyes so gold, so deep, and _so terribly haunted_. When she catches his gaze and focuses, she sees the look of a fifty-year-old man that has bore witness to too many tragedies and horrors in his lifetime. Then she begins to wonder what he _has_ seen, but quickly squashes the notion, because she realizes _she doesn't want to actually know_. Curiosity did kill the cat, after all.

Then there are times, when he doesn't think anyone are looking, when he harbors a look of distrust, as if he thinks that the Weasley household is going to flip on him at any given second. She's discussed it with the others, but they believe it to be the result of being abused (if you can't trust the people who take care of you, the ones who are supposed to love you unconditionally, then who can you?). She would have mentioned the fact that Harry has been neglected, but bit her tongue - Alphonse's case is obviously much worse than Harry's.

She can't begin to fathom what that boy has been through. To think, her whole life, the worse she has ever received is when Draco Malfoy and his goons insult her for being muggle-born - but to be starved, locked away, possibly harmed physically - she can't imagine the strain it must put on one.

On a much brighter note, Hermione has also taken great interest in Alphonse's recovery. As mentioned before, Molly explained to her that he had most likely been abused and neglected, hence why he was so thin when he first arrived (not that he's still not thin, because he most certainly is). Lately though, his skin has begun to shine, no longer a pasty white, but a light sun-kissed color, his cheeks filling and his muscles becoming more rounded.

"He weighs a hundred and fifteen now!" Molly had told her just yesterday, proud that her magic has helped him recover so greatly. Then again, Alphonse has been diligent; working out, eating as much as he can, drinking all the potions Molly offers his way, and keeping track of all the calories he intakes (to ensure he gains at least a pound a day).

She's happy for him, because quite frankly, when she first arrived she had been deeply worried about his condition. Ron explained to her just how terrifying he looked when he first arrived (practically a walking, talking skeleton). To see him filling out his body so quickly leaves her with a light feeling.

There is also something strange - peculiar and interesting - that Ron mentioned to her recently: Alphonse said he is an alchemist.

The problem with that statement is that the last alchemist, according to history, was the late Nicholas Flamel. The art is magical in nature, but tightly intertwined with science - thus the reason why many consider it a non-magical art. Every concept has an explanation, unlike magic that just works. Only those gifted can even begin to understand alchemic texts.

Dumbledore himself said it's a complex art that _he's_ not even mastered. And while Alphonse is exceptionally bright, it's highly unlikely that he could master something that not even Dumbledore can. It's too far-fetched in her opinion, but she's willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

The fourteen-year-old is shook from her reverie when she hears groaning and mumbling through the wall from the next bedroom over. She raises up in bed, squinting through the dark at Ginny who's still sound asleep. Fortunately for Hermione, she never even dosed off yet so she doesn't feel the effects of sleep. She frowns when she realizes the source of the sound. _It's coming from Al's room . . ._

Is he talking to someone?

If so - who?

_Why?_

Hermione climbs out of her bed, reminding herself to walk on the tips of her toes, and creeps around the mess on the floor the girls have accumulated in the past week, and slips out into the hallway. The incoherent mumbling only increases in volume the closer she gets to the door - which is cracked open. _How odd_, she thinks to herself, _Al usually keeps his door completely shut_.

Cautiously she peeks inside, her heart calming and eyes softening at the sight.

The bed is a tangled mess of sheets, quilt, and limbs, Alphonse's head just visible near the headboard thanks to the moonlight pouring in through the nearby window, highlighting his slim face. His face contorts and he mumbles, "Brother . . . Ed . . . please d-don't leave me . . . we're all we've got . . ."

Hermione lets out a shallow breath. Alphonse really misses his older brother, Edward. He mentions him often, telling of things his brother has done and said, a fond look always on his face as he does so. She asked Molly of his whereabouts only to find out that the two have been separated and once Alphonse has a clean bill of health, he's going to go find Edward.

It's heartbreaking -

And suddenly Hermione realizes that she is being intrusive. She eases away from the door with one backward glance at Alphonse, then shuffles into Ginny's room for the night.

* * *

Edward Elric is certainly a fascinating one.

Ever since his strange arrival, Dumbledore has kept close tabs on him. The boy's devotion to find his younger brother knows no bounds - a sort of devotion that Dumbledore finds himself admiring, because most people would have long since given up - or thought their loved one dead. But no, Edward is certain that his sibling is alive.

When the boy isn't gone, he's either working for Hagrid or in the kitchen for Dumbledore - and when he's not doing either of those, he's in the library devouring every book in sight. He's asked questions about magic, how it works, if there are any spell that can help him find his brother, and others, but he's sad to say, he hasn't been of much assistance to Edward.

It seems, for now, all he can do is take him under his wing and allow him a means of getting around the country to search. Of course, due to his low funds, he isn't able to go too far. But, he has a feeling the boy will start taking trips that last weeks at a time - the teaching assistant job he's offered will probably fall flat, but he doesn't mind. He just wants Edward to be reunited with Alphonse.

He hates seeing him so upset and down, especially when he returns from another failed trip. Each time, he looks a little more beaten down, but no less determined, his golden irises burning.

If only he could do more for the boy . . .

Down at Hagrid's, Edward glares at a large, bird-horse chimera (a creature that he threw a fit about for hours, before being explained multiple times that, in fact, it isn't a chimera, but a mythical breed of animal) with a firm scowl in place. He turns his head to the side where Hagrid stands, feeding some other strange looking animal. "You want_ me_ to give_ this_ thing a bath?"

"Hmm, yeah, it shouldn't be that hard. Just watch out fer its-"

Edward yelps as the (not) chimera horse reaches down and tugs on his ponytail with its beak before taking a nip at his shoulder. He swats hatefully at the animal. "_It just fucking **bit** me!"_

"Ah, that's what I was about to say: he bites."

"That would have been nice to know_ BEFOREHAND_, you giant asshole!"

Hagrid chuckles, having grown accustomed to Edward's tendency to use such profane language. It doesn't even bother him anymore - in fact, if Edward were to suddenly stop, he'd worry something was the matter with the boy! "No need to get all torn up, lad," he says, "he does that to everyone once in a while. Even me. Of course, I put 'em in his place." He looks at the creature. "Isn't that right, Borse?" In response it shakes its feathers and whinnies.

Edward rolls his eyes. "If that's the case then you can wash him." He places the pale of warm water down on the ground and focuses his attention back on Hagrid. "I'll go check the garden."

* * *

"This is getting me NOWHERE!" Edward screeches, slamming his hands down on the wooden surface of the desk he occupies. The sound that follows as result echoes throughout the Hogwarts' library, reaching every dusty corner and cranny the room has to offer. He promptly buries his face in his palms, his stomach churning as he considers the possibility that Alphonse_ might not be here with him_.

_He doesn't -_

_**Can't** -_

Accept it, because he hasn't checked everywhere in England - and doesn't exactly have the means to do so. But when it comes down to it, he will uproot himself and travel to every corner of this foreign land - _earth_ as it is so often referred to in the geography books he has come across - and live on the streets if that's what it takes.

He will do anything for Alphonse. He had promised so many years ago - to his mother (_"You're the older brother, Ed, that means you have to take care of Al, understand?"_) that he'd protect Alphonse no matter what. He refuses to let her down.

He runs his hands through his hair, the sensation of his right palm sliding across the silky strands sending shock waves from the appendage up to his shoulder. He leans back, withdrawing his hands, and stares at them, taking special note of the right. While it is much thinner than his left (he still does everything with his left due to it just feeling more comfortable after years of being forced to use it), he can't be any happier to have it back.

_Thanks to you, Al . . ._

Edward sighs and slumps in his chair, eyes shifting towards the blotchy words in one of many books strewn out in front of him, all flipped open to random pages. When he would get bored of one book, he'd transition over to another, repeating the process until one, two, or all were read from front to back.

He clamps his eyes shut and arcs his back until his forehead finds purchase upon the desk's smooth surface.

If he doesn't develop a plan soon -

_He doesn't really want to think or even consider it -_

But, if he doesn't, then what? His soul will not rest until he knows that Alphonse is safe. But this world is so foreign._ Amestris isn't even visible on a map_, for crying out loud! What does that even mean for him? Is he trapped in Alphonse's Gate? He scrunches his nose.

From what he recalls, the Gate is pitch black, only lightened by a stream of memories, knowledge, and _so much more_, all merged together. He couldn't stand on his own, he merely drifted, until tiny black hands deconstructed him and he was thrown back out the Gate, facing Truth once more. There was nothing solid inside, let alone an entire planet or alternate universe.

But . . . where is he? If he didn't come out of Alphonse's Gate in Amestris, then _where? _

"Ugh - none of this makes any goddamn sense!" he snaps and kicks his feet out with a growl so low it is reminiscent of something feral.

Dumbledore observes from a distance, his heart clenching at the sight.

* * *

"The Quidditch World Cup is just a few days away now - we'll have to go fetch Harry." Ron chirps happily during dinner, taking a large bite of the casserole Molly prepared. Hermione bobs her head in agreement, the excitement for the upcoming Quidditch match radiating from each the of the present Weasley children.

"I am so excited," Hermione says, "I've been waiting all summer for this!" She smiles over at Arthur. "Thanks again for taking me along."

Arthur waves his hand in a dismissive manner. "It's nothing, really."

Alphonse shakes his head in defiance. "Yeah, it is! I mean - you _barely_ know me and _bought me a ticket_. I feel terrible!"

He really does. He feels as if he is mooching off of them, even if they insist that he's not. Back home, he and Edward had to work for everything they got and as a result, just having things handed to him is the strangest feeling (as if he doesn't deserve it - and he doesn't). He's not used to it one bit.

"Dear, you need to stop worrying so much," Molly clucks, waving her fork around, stern, yet somehow warm, expression hanging on her face,"If you don't accept what we're offering, it will hurt our feelings. So you might as well save yourself - and us - the trouble and just take it."

"Yeah, you should know our mum and dad by now," George adds, shrugging. "You should know better than to argue with 'em - especially mum. Once she has her mind set on something it's going to happen - whether or not you like it."

Molly sends George a dry look before focusing back on Alphonse. He can't help but squirm under her gaze (or is it a glare?). "Just be sure to enjoy yourself. That's the only payment we'll accept from you. How does that sound?"

Alphonse feels the corners of his lips twitch upward. _This is how a family should be. They all look so happy - their eyes innocent - the house warm and filled with love._ He can't help but feel jealous of the Weasleys, because _this_ was ripped away from him. _This_ was what he craved for all those years and still does.

He takes a deep breath and finally answers: "I like the sound of that."

* * *

Harry hasn't felt more relieved to be away from the Dursley's house in Little Whinging than he does right now.

They treat him like an animal; locking him up in his room and practically starving him. To think, if he weren't born with magic, then he wouldn't have an escape from them until he turned eighteen. He shivers at the thought.

At the moment, he is standing in Ron's bedroom, tossing his belongings on the spare bed in the room before plopping down beside it. He feels as if a heavy weight has been lifted off his shoulders (perhaps that is just Vernon Dursley being off his back) and he can finally relax, because, to him, the Weasleys are more his family than the Dursleys - and in more ways than one, they are.

Molly and Arthur treat him something akin to a surrogate son, always doting and concerned for him, making sure to send him gifts during the holidays and whatnot. Then Ron is like a brother to him - along with George and Fred, despite their pranks. He'd say the same for Ginny, but he doesn't think she likes him too well. Whenever he's near her face turns red and she flees the room.

Maybe she heard a terrible rumor about him and doesn't like the thought of being around him. Even though it bothers him more than it should, he isn't really all that surprised. Due to being the only known survivor of the killing curse, people like to gossip about him.

Ron popping his head into the bedroom lures Harry from his thoughts, and he gives his best friend a grin. "What is it, Ron?"

"After you get settled in, there's someone I'd like you to meet." Ron answers, thumbing in a direction down the hall. Harry feels the grin slip from his face, replaced by a thin line. Ron must sense his confusion, because he sighs and says, "We've got a guest staying with us until he's better. He's in the bathroom right now, or else I'd introduce you already."

Harry raises his eyebrows, curious about this newcomer. "Is he a family member?" he questions. Ron slips the rest of the way into the room and takes a seat on the bed across from Harry's, scooting back far enough to lean against the wall. He shakes his head.

"No, he used some weird apparition spell and literally fell from the ceiling! Landed right on the kitchen table, naked and nothing but skin and bones!" Ron blubbers as if he still can't believe it. Not that Harry can either - he feels just as baffled as Ron looks. "He's not nearly as thin as when he arrived - probably almost forty pounds lighter to be more precise. Unfortunately, he doesn't remember how he got here."

_That's so weird_, Harry thinks to himself, still in too much shock to actually be able to form a coherent sentence required to respond. It feels as if Ron has just dropped an atomic bomb on him. When he does manage to gain control of his tongue, what comes out is: "Do you think he's possibly connected to _you-know-who?_"

Ron looks surprised for a moment, but only momentarily, because a second a later he is folding his arms across his stomach and laughing. _"No way!"_ He bangs his head lightly against the wall on accident, but it doesn't seem to faze him. "This guy is too much of a saint to be connected to _him_. Mum already acts as if he's apart of the family! Dad, too! _They bought him a ticket to the Quidditch World Cup Final!_ If that doesn't show how much they like him, then I don't know what will."

Now this, isn't all that shocking. Molly always has harbored a strong maternal sense about her. Whenever a child is injured, sick, or threatened, it's as if something inside of her goes off and she wants to help or protect them. It's a trait that he has always admired about her.

"Why didn't you tell me of him in your letters?" It isn't like Ron to keep things - especially something like _this_ - from him. Ron doesn't look affronted or abashed in the least bit.

"Mum wants to keep it on the down low - he might be a muggle and that means he'll have to have his memory wiped." He scratches his head. "And you know mum, once she's attached it's hard for her to let go."

"Well, do you like him?" Harry inquires, one eyebrow cocked. Just because Molly likes the kid - it could just be her soft spot for children - doesn't mean that _he_ will - and if he's going to trust anyone's opinion of this newcomer, it's going to be Ron's. Not that they always agree; it's just better than going into the situation blind.

Ron shrugs. "He's fine. He's closer to 'Mione than me." He rubs at his nose. "Those two like spending time in the study together."

"Doing what?"

At this, the redhead gains a horrified look that makes Harry wonder what could possibly be going on to incur such a reaction, when - "They _read_." Harry nearly drops where he's sitting, eye twitching.

"Are you that surprised with Hermione?" he asks, clearly not amused. Ron shakes his head from left-to-right. "Exactly. Perhaps he just likes to read a lot -"

"Or _he_ likes_ her_." Ron sniffs, his face twisting into a look that screams what he's feeling: jealousy. Harry smirks.

The boy has had a crush on Hermione since last year, but he's too stubborn to admit it. That or he's just dense. Harry can't decide which, because it might be a combination of both, and most likely is, but with Ron, one can't be too certain. Anyhow, the redhead always gets this peculiarly expression on his face when another of the male gender gets a little too close to Hermione.

It would be hilarious if Ron didn't rant about it for hours afterward - or pick a fight with Hermione just to make himself feel better.

Their conversation comes to an end when a light knock from the doorway interrupts. Harry glances over, fully expecting to see one of the twins, Ginny, or Molly or Arthur, but not a boy of average height with clean-cut blond hair and striking gold irises - he looks vaguely familiar, but he doesn't see how that's possible.

"You cut off all your hair, mate!" Ron squeaks, a look of awe on his face. "You don't look like a girl anymore!" Harry nearly face-palms at the rude comment and glances at the boy, expecting him to be offended, only to find an amused expression in-tact. Harry can only blink, astounded. Usually, when insulted, people tend to retaliate in some manner, be it verbal or physical.

Then again, Ron had said that this boy is almost kind to a fault.

The boy laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, I'd been meaning to cut it for a while." he admits, eyes moving towards Harry. His once occupied hand drops to his side before he approaches. "I guess you're the one every is talking about?"

Harry smiles and offers his hand. "That depends. What were they saying?"

"Good things - Harry Potter, right?" he says, accepting his hand and giving a firm shake. Harry nods. This guy doesn't seem too bad, after all. Definitely not giving him negative (distrusting) vibes like Peter Pettigrew. "Alphonse Elric."

Harry's eyes widen. "Alphonse Elric?" He bobs his head. "That sounds familiar . . ." But where has he heard it from?

"You're probably thinking of another Alphonse - but call me Al for short." Alphonse suggests, shoulders raising and slumping in a nonchalant gesture. Harry chuckles, having no better explanation.

"You're probably right!" he agrees. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Al."

**TBC**

* * *

**_BAM. Cliffhanger! Er, kind of. xD_**

**_Before anyone asks (if they even DO), yes, this chapter was meant to speed things up a little bit - mainly because I don't plan on this story being some forty chapter piece. I'm honestly hoping it doesn't exceed past chapter 29 (hopefully it doesn't even get that long), but that depends on how I go from point to point in my outline. Even though the outline IS complete, it doesn't include what conversations need to be had - just the major points. I have to fill in the rest as I go._**

**_As for Harry not recognizing Al right off the bat? Well, Harry has a lot on his mind - and I've always seen him to be the type to get lost in himself. By that, I do mean he can be a little selfish at times (as we all can be - it's only human)._**

**_Anyways, please tell me what you think! _**


	6. Nitrogen

**_A/N: _**_Once again, thanks for the support! I wasn't going to release this chapter until a later date, but since school starts on Monday and you all have been so awesome, I thought it would be a nice little treat (since the next chapter might take a while longer)._

_**The QAS: **For starters: thanks again for the review! I always love what you have to say. I'm glad that you noticed where I mentioned the letter problem, because it was bugging me after you said something about it (which I'm glad you did or it never would have been brought up). I hope you enjoy this new chapter!_

**_**_**_This chapter is primarily focused on Alphonse because of how BIG this scene is (probably going to be my longest chapter yet). It's pretty detrimental to the HP movie, so yeah. xD_

_**(!)(!):** This chapter time skips a few days. In fact, this chapter and the next will be a little faster paced. Hope you don't mind!_

**_(!): _**_Before anyone even asks: **NO, this will not be an Al/Hermione story - or Ed x anyone**. I really just like Al and Hermione's interaction as I see her being someone in which Al can become comfortable around and confide in. Nothing more, nothing less. _

* * *

**_6._** _Nitrogen _

* * *

"Alphonse! Wake up already!" Hermione growls at the blonde snuggled warmly in bed. The bushy-haired witch groans and places her hands on the rounds of her hips, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. _Why is it so difficult to wake boys?!_

"No . . . five more minutes, Ed . . ." Alphonse murmurs sleepily, his head burrowing itself under one of the stray sheets that has somehow managed to work itself up to the headboard. Hermione sighs, exasperated after having just won the horrid struggle of waking Harry and Ron up and now having to put up with another.

"Ugh! _I'm being serious!_" she hisses, only for the boy to mumble something else in response. At this point she has already had enough and decides to use more physical methods to get the self-proclaimed alchemist up. She reaches over and pulls down the sheet his head is under and flicks him right, square dab on the nose. She doesn't attain the response she wants -

Alphonse's eyes shoot open at blinding speed and one of his hands snatches her wrist, throwing her on the opposite side of the bed in the floor with little effort. Hermione grunts, the air knocked right out of her lungs, before a weight rests atop her. When her eyes focus, she realizes that Alphonse is straddling her, his amber irises on fire, hot blood quickly rushes up to her cheeks (he is rather attractive now, having filled out, his muscles lightly toned, and that's excluding his charming haircut -_ wait, what?!)_ - but then he jumps up, gently taking her with him.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Hermione!" he says frantically once he has her stabilized on her legs, his eyes darting up and down her frame for injuries. "I - I didn't -"

Hermione cuts him off by laughing. "It's quite alright, I'm not hurt, a little startled perhaps, but that's about it." Alphonse relaxes and heaves a heavy breath.

"Sorry, I'm a bit jumpy in the morning!" he confesses with a chuckle. Hermione waves him off.

"Don't worry about it," she clucks, walking around to the other side of the bed where a nightstand is. She snatches the neatly folded clothes that Molly had given to her out in the hall that lay there and promptly returns to Alphonse, offering them to him. "These are for you to wear - we've got to be going soon."

"Thanks, Hermione," he chimes, giving her a wide smile that she returns. She quickly conduces that this boy's smiles and laughter are both equally contagious.

"Don't worry about it! Just get dressed." She thrusts the clothes into his arms and adds: "Quickly now!" before leaving the bedroom, making sure that the door is shut behind her.

Alphonse yawns and focuses on changing out of his pajamas and into the new clothes Hermione brought him. He ends up in a pair of dark jeans, a gray t-shirt, and a blue zip-up hoodie. It's a far cry from the fancier clothes he'd wear back home, but they will make do - and plus they're comfortable enough. He rushes to the door and slips on the black and white trainers that Ron gave him before heading down stairs to the bathroom.

Unfortunately the house is like a zoo.

Ginny is hogging the bathroom up, which in turn, is holding up the twins, Ron, Harry, and Alphonse himself. Alphonse huffs while George and Fred continue hatefully banging on the door.

"Come on!" Freed screeches.

"Quit trying to put make-up on to impress -"

The door slings open at an impressive speed - slamming right into George's face, silencing him. A redhead whirlwind twirls out, wand in hand, mouth about to spew an incantation, when Molly stops her and ushers her off. Ginny protests, but doesn't get the chance for much else before being herded into the living room.

"Even though I feel bad for you, it's still hilarious!" Fred chortles while helping his twin up. George sways a moment, slightly disoriented, but soon regains his wits and stumbles into the bathroom along with Fred and Ron. Harry and Alphonse decide to wait outside the tiny room for their turn.

"Give me my toothbrush -"

"Move OUT of the WAY -"

"Your elbow is my face, eejit -"

"When was the last time you showered -"

"About the last time you put deodorant on -"

Alphonse shakes his head, amused at the tangled mess of heads of red hair and freckly arms trying to gain access to the bathroom sink and peers over at Harry. "Are they _always_ like this?"

Harry sighs as if irritated, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise, and slowly nods. "Unfortunately: yes."

"Oh,_ for God's sake_, boys!" Molly snaps from behind Alphonse and Harry. "Fred, George, let Ron get his toothbrush!"

"Fine, fine," the twins mumble, moving out of their younger sibling's way. He quickly snatches his toothbrush and applies toothpaste on its bristles. A moment later he is out of the way, standing out in the hallway to brush his teeth.

Pleased, Molly turns to walk off. "Be sure to hurry, your father is getting impatient."

Eventually, everyone gets their turn in the bathroom before snagging a quick breakfast on the way out the door (which, getting out the door turns out being just as difficult as getting into the bathroom due to the fact that everyone - minus Alphonse, Harry, and Hermione - tries shoving their way through the small frame at the same time).

"Finally," Ron mumbles with a yawn, stretching his arms above his head, "I can't wait to finally get there!"

"We've been waiting all summer for this."

"I hope they have plenty souvenirs."

"I'm just hoping to get Viktor Krum's autograph."

"I'm just hoping to pull a few good ones on some poor unexpecting lads."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "You two are always hoping for that, regardless of where you are. Try being a little more original."

Alphonse sighs, drowning out the small chit-chat between the five, his golden stare focused on the scenery: a beautiful forest with sparsely spread trees. The grass is a little high and the air bitter with a chill, but other than that, it is truly a sight to behold. In a way, the hills remind him of being back home in Resembool, the valleys and mounds rolling, houses a good distance apart. He has a sinking realization:

_He misses** home.**_

He misses Granny, Winry, Roy, Riza, his father, Mei, Ling, Lan-Fan, Fu, Armstrong - but most of all, he misses his brother - _Edward_. His brother is his best friend, his rock, his role model, the only stability in his life - and to be separated for four weeks, with no contact, has taken its toll. He's hidden it well, but he _is_ concerned (what happened to his sibling?). Surely Truth didn't take him or trap him.

_No_. Alphonse shakes his head.

He and Edward stepped through his Gate together. Alphonse was even holding onto his brother before they got pried apart and sent in opposite directions. That's proof enough that Edward at least went through the Gate. However, the only problem is that Alphonse doesn't know where he ended up at. Hell, Alphonse doesn't even know where _HE_ is himself.

It's a disconcerting thought.

"Amos Diggory!" Arthur's voice booms, starling Alphonse. He blinks, startled (Teacher would be so disappointed), and glances up, only to see an oddly clothed man, roughly in his mid-forties, wearing an overly stuffed backpack. He grins and waves before his eyes land on Harry and a strange expression crosses his visage.

"You must be Harry Potter?" he inquires, appearing awed. It reminds Alphonse of the times when he and Edward would run into people that have heard of some of their more notorious actions - _"The Elric brothers? Wow . . ."_ - and makes him wonder if he should be aware of Harry's exploits.

Harry looks uncomfortable, but nods, forcing a smile onto his face. "Um, yes," he says, albeit gingerly, "nice to meet you."

Suddenly, branches from a tree directly to the left of their current position, rattles and a boy with dark blond hair and about the same height as Alphonse lands on the ground. He gives a wide smile at them. "Cedric Diggory." he introduces himself. They quickly explain who they are and the group, with the two additions, start walking up the worn path again.

"How are we getting there?" Ron questions with a huff.

"Portkey." Amos answers just as they get to the base of a rather steep hill. He motions to the top where a trashcan lid is visible. Alphonse knots his eyebrows together, confused. Apparently, the Weasley children, Ron, Harry, and Hermione feel the same way, because they all look at him with the exact expression.

"What's a portkey?" Ginny asks.

"They're another form of transportation for witches and wizards - usually gaudy objects that a muggle wouldn't put their hands on." Amos explains as they reach the trashcan lid. He bends over and picks it up. "Alright, now - everyone hold on tight and don't let go until I say otherwise."

"This is weird . . ." Alphonse mumbles to himself, grabbing the metal lid tightly as instructed._ I wonder what will happen?_

Suddenly everything begins to spin out of control, a strong pulling sensation resonating deep within Alphonse's naval. It's the oddest sensation he's ever felt - and he's certain he is going to be sick if it doesn't stop anytime soon, which won't be good for anyone.

"Let go!" Amos commands.

Alphonse does - and the next thing he knows is his face harshly meeting the ground. He groans and sits up, not surprised to see Ron, Harry, and Hermione beside him doing the same._ That hurt._

Once they've collected their wits, they focus on what's in front of them: a large group of people weaving in and around tents and booths, all talking loudly. The only festival Alphonse can think of back home that can even relate is the annual one in Central. It's a celebration for the day that Amestris became the nation that is today.

All he can say is: "Wow."

"Pretty amazing, huh?" Hermione chimes, coming up beside him. He nods.

"Yeah, I've never seen anything like it." he admits, eyes trailing to the large stadium in the distance. "I'm guessing that's where the game will be?"

Hermione rolls her eyes. "How'd you guess?"

Alphonse gives a lopsided grin in exchange. "Uh, strong intuition?"

"You're hopeless!" she laughs, nudging him in the side before motioning towards the others and starting to jog. "Better hurry!"

They push their way through the crowd, eventually separating from Amos and Cedric, while Alphonse is sure to glance at and comment on a few of the booths along the way. The eventually pause outside a rather tiny tent. "This is ours." Arthur announces, earning a few bewildered stares in response. "Go on, the match doesn't start for a while - get settled in."

When Alphonse gets to enter he nearly chokes on his own saliva.

The place is_ huge!_

There is a living room with furniture, a dining room, and a few other rooms off to the sides, all decorated brightly. "You can share a room with me and George," Fred says, dragging Alphonse with him, not even giving the boy any chance to protest (not that he would).

They enter a decently sized room where, like much of the rest of the other rooms, the grass is covered by rugs. "You can use that bed." George declares, pointing towards a set of bunk-beds on the left side of the room.

"Thanks." Alphonse heads over to the bunk and takes a seat. "What time will we head to the stadium?"

"In a few hours." George answers.

Fred nods in agreement. "We came early to enjoy the festivities beforehand. We're going to buy merchandize to support our favorite team." he says, cracking a smile when he catches a sly look on his twin's face.

"And maybe a few other things . . ."

Alphonse sighs, eyebrows twitching. "I guess you mean that you're going to look for things that can help you two prank people?"

Fred and George glance at each other, both wearing shit-eating grins. "Isn't it obvious?"

* * *

Edward takes a deep breath, sweat puckered along any visible bits of his flesh, and slowly opens his eyes - then, without warning, he springs forward, his right foot leaving the ground to execute a perfect roundhouse kick. The moment the appendage touches the ground he twists his body to the left, his left foot following suit as he hunkers down to perform a sweeping kick followed by a swift lung to the right that turns into a somersault. When he raises up, he thrusts his right fist forward - only to accidentally put too much force into the blow and for him to topple over.

"Fuck!" he grits out, having hit his knee on a particularly sharp rock.

He's only recently realized how off-balance he is without his automail after practicing martial arts. Of course, he is more agile now - and his shoulder and neck don't ache like they used to - but his hits aren't as hard, nor are they as accurate. He's always over aiming, having had to in order to accommodate the weight of automail (it's basically become habit out of necessity for survival).

_Still yet._ He runs his hands through his greasy hair.

Thanks to Madame Pomfrey his right arm has recovered muscle at a staggering rate and has finally caught up to his left (for the most part), meaning that he can now push both to the limit during a workout, but still it isn't going to be easy to adjust. If he wants his punches to be as effective as when he had automail, he will have to work hard.

Sigh . . .

If only he still had his alchemy! He glances down at his shaking hands, his body jittery after a tedious workout, then slaps his palms together and touches the ground: nothing happens - not that he expected anything but.

"Worth a shot, I guess," he murmurs to himself, leaning against the tree beside him.

He doesn't feel as effective without his alchemy, but it was well worth the sacrifice (he keeps telling himself that Alphonse is home, while, due to Father, he is stuck here). Not that he's going to take anything laying down though. He still has his hand-to-hand combat, even though his style will have to be altered to suit his needs.

Dumbledore had taken him to some place the other day - Diagon Alley - to purchase a wand so that he may learn magic, only to discover that he can't use it either. He assumes it has to do with him sacrificing his Gate, and it probably does, meaning that he's made an important discovery (if the Gate is connected to magic as well, that is): witches and wizards pull from the Gate. But that leaves him with another unanswered question: 'How does magic bypass Equivalent Exchange?'

It's a lot to think on.

Since that didn't work as well as they would have liked, Dumbledore decided that it be best that he learn how to make potions - _"You never know when one could come in handy!"_ - under Snape's tutelage (not that either were particularly enjoyed to be spending time with the other after Edward had nearly killed Snape with his poor cooking - it's now a joke amongst the staff that if something from the kitchen tastes bad they say "it must be Ed's cookin' again!").

Nevertheless, in the past few days, Edward has excelled in potion making - in fact, it puts him in the mind of alchemy considering that it mainly requires a good memory. He's learned how to make a potion that petrifies people (literally freezing them in place), one called polyjuice potion that allows him to alter his appearance (reminds him of Envy's ability), another called girding potion that gives the user extra endurance (that should be handy), and many more. Eventually he'd like to sit down and concoct his own potions. Should be simple, really.

Edward's quickly decided that potions will play a large part in his new fighting style. Without alchemy - or the ability to learn magic - he will need to rely on another means besides just hand-to-hand combat and his innate ability for coming up with fighting strategies on the spot - _something that will give him an edge_ - and he's found that in potions.

With a belt and two sturdy pouches, he will be able to keep potions on him at all times. He's already invested in said items, the left being used for potions that will improve himself, while the right will be used to capacitate any enemies (which he's hoping he doesn't encounter, but he has a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that says something is just _off_ about this place).

His next goal is to conquer the power of flight, or in his case: learning how to fly on a broomstick without being upside down or embedded in the side of Hogwarts' impressive framework. And yes, he's _that bad_. He's already ended up in the infirmary due to a flying accident twice today.

"Are ya alright, lad?" Hagrid calls from the house, his voice saturated with concern. "Do ya need me to come n' carry ya?"

Edward waves his hand dismissively. "Nah, I'm fine - I can walk on my own legs."

Hagrid doesn't seem convinced but shrugs nonetheless. "Alright then, dinner is almost finished."

"About time . . ." Edward responds, pushing himself up on his feet and dusting his clothes off. "Make sure to save me some this time!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The blond arches his eyebrows while he approaches. "That means don't_ pulverize_ the whole damn table before _I_ even get there!"

"Then don't be wastin' any time! I've got a hefty appetite." Hagrid chortles, rubbing his round stomach. Edward rolls his eyes.

"That's an understatement." he mutters as he reaches the door. Hagrid steps to the side to allow him in. "It's like you inhale and everything's gone."

The large man slaps Edward hard on the back, causing the shorter male to stumble forward. "I can't help it!"

"For fuck's sake, mountain man!" he snaps his hands flying back in an attempt to rub his sore spine. "You don't know your own strength! Geez!"

Hagrid gives him a sheepish look that says he isn't in the least bit sorry. "My bad."

Edward grumbles hatefully under his breath before taking a seat at the kitchen table, the aroma from the food causing his mouth to salivate. His pain is instantly forgotten, sating his growling stomach becoming more important. "Let's just eat already."

"You don't have to tell me twice!" Hagrid exclaims, already at the table with a plate in one hand and the other reaching for the roll basket. Before he can even get his hand on the wooden rim, Edward swats his appendage away, an impressive glare upon his visage.

"Now don't take the basket!"

"I cooked it, I can take whatever I please -"

"And I did the most work outside today -"

"That may be true, but you're staying here because of my kindness -"

"Your garden wouldn't be half of what it is without me -"

"You'd be on the streets without me -"

"Well, I'm a growing teenager! That triumphs everything else!"

Hagrid reluctantly relents with a sigh, a defeated expression in-tact. "Ah, you got me there."

Edward smirks and snatches up three rolls, proudly plopping them on his plate. "That's what I thought - look I even left two for you." He pushes the basket within Hagrid's reach, adding with an accusatory glance at the large man, "Unlike _someone_ I know that tends not to."

Hagrid gives him a dry look before taking a bite out of one of the rolls. "Just eat yer food."

* * *

If Alphonse thought the outside of the stadium was huge, the inside is even more so.

After an odd run in with a family - the Malfoys, he reminds himself - they got their seats which just so happen to be at the very top of the stadium. There are the strangest contraptions and technology present, but he decides not to comment on it (based on everyone else's reactions - or lack thereof - it's supposed to be common knowledge and he doesn't want to draw further attention to himself). Besides, he's still amazed by the amount of people crowded into one place. There has to be a _minimum_ of fifty-thousand people seated.

If only Edward could see this . . .

"There they are!" Ron screeches, pointing at a handful of people riding levitating brooms (people riding brooms - that had been a fun explanation to hear) that flood the center of the stadium. They perform a neat introduction consisting of advanced flying techniques and green smoke, officially revealing their identity as the Irish team.

A moment later the opposing team, Bulgaria, makes their grand entrance - also fueled by intricate flying, minus the smoke, although Ron's favorite Quidditch player, Viktor Krum, gets the spotlight - half of the stadium becoming a five-hundred foot moving image of him flying around on a broomstick while the crowd chants his name. He must be worth something to receive such treatment.

Almost immediately after, the match is underway - the Irish team taking the lead early on. But Bulgaria doesn't take it laying down; they struggle and manage to score a few points, but their defense isn't as efficient as the Irish's, therefore aren't able to catch up. Based on determination alone, Alphonse finds that he prefers the Bulgarians - they have more heart, but the Irish have more skill and better chemistry as a team.

Apparently, Viktor is the better seeker and manages to end the game by catching the golden snitch, but due to the expansive lead the Irish team has, the Bulgarians are still defeated. Ron looks scorned at the outcome, but only huffs and mutters something to Harry.

"Well, they tried their best." Alphonse murmurs to Hermione who nods her head in agreement.

"Everyone loses some and wins some." the bushy-haired girl comments. She leans over, hands cuffed around her mouth. Alphonse blinks and lowers his ear closer to her. "We're never going to hear the end of this from Ron, now."

Alphonse chuckles. "You're right!"

"Would you two cut it out and come on?" Ron snaps, having somehow gotten behind them. They both look at him, neither missing his reddened cheeks and the hateful gaze he is bestowing upon them with little restraint._ He's definitely ticked._

"Right," Hermione trills, motioning for Alphonse to follow her. "Back to the tent."

* * *

"Sounds like they've got their Irish pride going strong!" George comments, from the center of the tent, grinning wide at the loud sounds from outside. Ron scowls at the not-so-surprising revelation and merely slumps in his seat nearby, his foul mood dampening the air of excitement.

While he isn't exactly pleased with the outcome of the match, he's more enraptured with how close he saw Hermione and Alphonse sitting afterwards. If they had been any closer Hermione would have practically been in Alphonse's lap! Then she had the nerve to lean over and whisper something in his ear that elicited a laugh from the boy. Ron grits his teeth.

He come to one conclusion: _they're blatantly flirting_.

Now, he is_ NOT_, by any means, jealous. He's concerned with his best friend's well-being. After all, they barely know Alphonse and he might be a player - womanizer - _man-whore_. What kind of friend would he be if he let her fall for such sleazy tricks?

Hermione will beg to differ, because she can never just take his advice for what it is: _advice_, and object, saying _'Alphonse is nice!'_ and that_ 'it's none of your concern, Ronald!'_ - but there's something inside of him _screaming_ that_ something_ is _offish_ with Alphonse. He can't quite put his finger on it, but he has a feeling that it will all come to light eventually.

Still: the suspense is _destroying_ him.

Ron runs a hand through his auburn bangs with a groan, his head dropping backwards with the motion. In the corner of his eye, he sees Hermione, Harry, and Alphonse all three lost in conversation, laughing and enjoying themselves. He frowns, anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach like boiling water.

Of course, _Harry_ has taken a liking to Alphonse, too. It seems like he's the only one even slightly weary of the bloke! Ginny and Hermione talk to him the most, _George and Fred_ invited him to share a room with them here in the tent, and Harry acted as if he has known Alphonse for years!

"What is this world coming to?" he mutters to himself while propping up an elbow on the chair arm and resting his chin in the palm of his upturned hand, eyes trailing away from the trio and to the front of the tent, feigning disinterest in what's going on around him. "This is stupid . . ."

A moment later, Arthur - whom had stepped out momentarily - emerges from outside, eyes wide. Ron straightens up his posture, blinking. _What the_ -

"We need to leave." Arthur announces, his tone deathly calm. Ron and the other teens look at the man, confused. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose between the forefinger and thumb of his right hand, exasperated.

"The Irish -"

"It's_ not_ the Irish!" Arthur snaps, silencing Fred. He gives a grim expression. "I mean it! We need to get going!"

That spurs everyone into action for some reason - and they fly outside, worried, baffled, and wondering what is going on - when they catch sight of multiple tents burning, their ears met with louds screaming and hollering from fleeing people. Ron's eyes widen. _What the bloody hell is going on?!_

"Get back to the portkey!" Arthur yells over the screaming. "Fred! George! Ginny is your responsibility! I'm going to help evacuate!"

Alphonse steps up, a look in his eyes so dark that even Ron feels a slight fear at the boy. "I'm helping, too!"

Hermione grabs the blond's arm. "No! You _can't!_ There's _nothing_ you can do!"

"Exactly! I'll be fine! Just go with the other children, Al!" Arthur accords loudly. Alphonse stands his ground, his lips set in a firm line. (Ron can only gape at the boy's tenacity. Does he _want_ to be killed?)

"No! I'm going to help, regardless of whether or not you approve!" Alphonse barks back, running _towards the fire_, despite Arthur, Harry, and Hermione's cries of protest.

"Damn!" Arthur hisses and turns towards the others. "You three hurry along! I'll catch up later!" he adds then dashes off.

"We can't just leave him!" Hermione says, trembling. Harry nods.

"Yeah - we'll have to force him to come with us! He'll get hurt!"

Ron snorts. "He made his decision!" Harry and Hermione give him horrified looks at the suggestion - not that he particularly cares at the moment. "Did you see the look in his eyes? There's no way we can convince him otherwise!"

Hermione pushes past him. "We have to try!"

Ron clenches his jaw while his friends head off after Alphonse, his hands quivering at his sides. What should he do? If he goes after them, then he very well could die! Think. Think. _Think_ -

"Come on, Ron!" Harry calls, grabbing his arm and pulling him after him through the panicked crowd, making the redhead's choice for him.

The closer they to the flames, the more panicked everyone is. People are screaming, shoving, and running as fast as they can. The most disturbing thing of all, however, are the bodies strewn about the ground, all scorched and with terrified expressions twisted onto their visages, their eyes void of life. Ron has to look away to avoid getting sick.

Harry locks up, causing Ron to plow into his backside and nearly knock him over. "What's the hold up?!" he questions, whirling around Harry to get a better look for himself - only to freeze at the sight before him: a group of witches and wizards, all cloaked in dark robes with hoods that come to a point, their faces covered by masks molded in the shape of a skull.

One poises their wand in front of them and launches a large fireball, setting a row of tents ablaze.

"W-We have to go!" Ron chokes out, shaking Harry's arm, but he remains frozen in a daze, his green irises owlish behind the lenses of his glasses. Up ahead, Hermione turns on her heels and runs back to them, the panic that courses through her body visible on her face.

"Come on, you two!" she screeches, pushing with all her weight against Ron and Harry, her arms eventually buckling. Harry stays firmly planted where he is, silent and scared - his face seemingly petrified in one expression.

"What is _wrong_ with you, Harry?!" Ron demands, the cloaked beings getting nearer and nearer while the screams of the others become further and further away. Are they going to die here? The redhead turns away from Harry and towards the danger, his legs suddenly feeling like jelly.

He feels Hermione's soft hand wiggle its way into one of his own, her fingers twitching against his knuckles, and he hears her let out a small gasp. It only makes their impending death seem more _real_ -_ this is the end_ because they refuse to leave Harry alone - and his heart flutters before leaping into his throat.

_We're really going to die._

_But there's **so much I want to do** -_

A loud clap sound shatters his thoughts and shakes him to the core. Apparently, Hermione feels the same way, her eye lashes batting against her cheeks as they both glance to the left -

"Alphonse!" Hermione cries, voice saturated with both concern and relief.

"Get out of here!" Alphonse responds, his hands pressed together in an odd manner before he abruptly slams his palms down on the ground. Ron blinks - _what does he hope to accomplish by that?_

There's a surge of energy that sparks from the ground where Alphonse is and suddenly the earth lurches, forming small mounds - _what the hell?!_ - then fist shape clumps rocket forward, slamming into the front roll of the wizards, sending them flying backwards.

Ron can only watch, mouth hung open, and feeling nothing but dumbfounded. He's never witnessed magic like that before.

However, Alphonse doesn't pay them any mind. The group focuses on him and begins to send spells his way, but he's too quick and dodges the beams of light with little trouble. (Ron can't help but wonder how someone can move that fast, but is too numbed by the situation to even speak at the moment.)

Alphonse eventually makes it to the remaining group and delivers a swift roundhouse kick to ones jaw, another to ones ankles, and another to ones gut, all three toppling over as a result. The others quickly fall back, all while casting more spells that are ineffective against Alphonse's speedy movements.

Ron can only wonder where he learned to fight like that. They're definitely muggle techniques, but more refined than what he's seen. Then again - he squints to get a better look at the blond - he is slightly panting, sweat lining the sides of his face. It's as he suspected: Alphonse hasn't fully recovered from his severe malnutrition.

"Finish him off!" one of the figures suddenly howls, flicking their wand with an acute tilt of their wrist. Alphonse merely dodges and claps his hands together _(wandless magic?!)_ and touches the ground. A spark of blue light invades Ron's vision once again and like before, the ground buckles, but instead of doing so in front of the oddly cloaked individuals, it occurs directly beside Alphonse, a long, speak shaped object rising up from the ground.

"I don't think so!" he retorts, pulling the spear into his hands and assuming a fighting stance.

"We have to get out of here!" Hermione pleas, her voice strained and desperate. "Alphonse! _Please!_"

Ron agrees - but he still can't seem to find his voice. He's too frightened by these wizards and witches - and the possibility of what they represent and whom they may be working for. He manages to clench his jaw.

If his assumptions are correct, then they are in a far worse situation than he could have ever dreamt.

"I have to fight them off, Hermione!" Alphonse retorts, shaking his head. "If they keep doing what they are - so many are going to get hurt!" He shoots a quick glance at them. "You three go on! I'll hold -"

"No!" Hermione objects, obstinate. "We're not going to leave you!"

"We need to help out, then!" Harry rasps, his eyes finally bright with emotion again. Ron sighs with relief.

"What happened to you?! You just zoned out there -"

"Doesn't matter," Harry interjects, "We can't sit back while Alphonse does everything!"

"But what can we do? We don't have our wands!" Ron quips, frustrated. From the looks of it - everyone has already fled the area - what they're doing (or Alphonse is doing) is utterly pointless! Why is that he's the only one that seems to understand that?

The cloak-clad figures all raise their wands and give quick waves, large fireballs pouncing from the ends and twirling towards the four. Ron, Hermione, and Harry all gasp and dive out of the way, while Alphonse weaves through the destruction - gasping when a flame manages to graze his left arm - and starts dueling the wizards up close once in range. He manages, impressively enough, to slice through a few wands while delivering powerful blows to others with the flat end of the spear.

Eventually, Alphonse receives another burn to his right calf, but merely winces and continues fighting. One wizard manages to get a hit on his spear and snap it in two, but instead of relenting, the thin blond whirls one of the ends at that particularly individual, knocking him onto the ground. He then throws the sharper end at another, piercing the man's shoulder - he screams out in pain and drops to his knees.

Ron shivers, the shrill sound rattling his insides. He's never heard such a pained cry before - and he doesn't want to ever again, either.

"Damn it!" one cries out, eyeing his downed comrades while stepping away from Alphonse. "Pull back! We can't afford to get captured!"

Ron blinks, surprised. They're wanting to retreat? His heart flutters with hope - when Alphonse yelps, falling over to the ground unable to move. _What the -_

"A binding spell!" Hermione exclaims, eyes glued to the beings as they turn and flee into the night.

Harry sighs. "We're lucky they didn't use the killing curse on us."

That's certainly something Ron can agree with. "Let's just hurry and get out of here."

"We have to help Al!" Hermione reminds them, already in the process of going to the golden haired boy. Ron's chest tightens at the sight, a scowl quickly working its way onto his visage.

"Come on, Ron, we'll have to pack him." Harry says, nudging Ron with his shoulder. The redhead mutters hateful things under his breath, but doesn't object. He walks side-by-side with Harry to their fallen friend.

"Sorry about this," Alphonse chuckles while Ron and Harry bend to lift him up. Ron rolls his eyes. _I bet you're sorry_.

Hermione shakes her head. "You saved so many lives, including ours - and we were useless to help." Her eyes trail to the scorches on both his left arm and left leg. "We'll get your injuries healed as soon as possible. Promise."

"Which brings up a very good question: what was that?" Harry inquires, adjusting his hold on Alphonse's knees. Ron, securing his hold on the blond's shoulders, can't help but wonder the same thing. He's certain that Hermione is curious, too, but is just too kind to voice her thoughts in such a situation. He can't much blame her, considering they owe Alphonse their lives.

The boy sighs. "Remember when I told you that I'm an alchemist?" They nod. He takes a deep breath and says: "Well, that was alchemy."

**TBC**

* * *

**_I have a few things to say about this chapter:_**

**_1. Um, I'm not that impressed with the fighting scene at the end. I tried re-writing it and whatnot, but it has been a long time since I've tried writing a fighting scene. To say I'm a little rusty is an understatement. I don't think it would have been as difficult had it been from Alphonse's perspective, but I wanted an outsider's instead (Ron's) so I could write in one of the other character's thoughts on the subject. It definitely was a reason I was postponing posting the previous chapter (I'm trying to stay ahead)._**

**_2. I don't remember seeing much of Hagrid's personality. I view him as one with a large appetite, nice but not above teasing someone (especially Edo), and a generally laidback individual. I really enjoyed writing the light banter between him and Ed as I felt it gave me some space from the seriousness of the rest of the chapter. _**

**_3. Ron's fearfulness. Hmm. I don't know how you all will take it, but I didn't exactly view the scene as him being scared, but more practical. They don't have their wands on them (it isn't really shown in the movie, so I'm assuming they didn't) and are kind of useless without them in this situation. Ron is the only one that seems to remember that (I've always seen him as someone to think things through a little more than Harry or Hermione who just want to jump into dangerous situations at times - but you might see him a little differently)._**

**_What do you all think? Please share your thoughts!_**


	7. Oxygen

**_A/N: _**_I really appreciate the support! As always!_

**_Shout outs to: _**_Phyrradoxa, MomoPeachFlower, Krazyfanfiction1, gundamzbd36, Cizco, justaislinn, Legendarily Quiet, urs-v, Guest(1), sootface, The QAS, Suzululu4, Guest(2), three-cats-meow, Guest(3), Aya Maria Sparkle, Morghan. Made. Of. Kandi, Konohamaya Uzumaki, and Original name2 for taking the time to review the last chapter! _

_***** Sorry I didn't get the chance to reply to all of you personally! The least I thought I could do was give a quick shout out. _

**_**_**_Someone seemed pretty upset that Ed isn't more involved in this story and felt that I was favoring Al - said I was 'taking a crap on' Ed. I don't feel like I'm 'crapping' on him just because I'm not giving him his alchemy (just like everyone else seems to do) and magic. Ed made a guess about magic and alchemy being connected by the Gate. Doesn't mean it's fact - and it hasn't been disclosed. Besides, Ed doesn't need magic or alchemy to be awesome. He has other abilities that I'm going to play on._

_As for me not knowing much about the book? I don't. I said in a previous chapter, I do believe, that this is going to be based on the events of the movie. This story isn't going to be ridiculously long, and if I followed the book, it would take a lot longer to get written. But I do completely agree that the movie seems (reminder: I've not read the book at all) to skip a lot and leaves holes._

_About Ed's flying: I didn't put that in to insult Ed. I don't understand why someone would think it was a way for me to bash him. I really don't, because I love Ed. It just seems like (Guest Reviewer) is convinced that I'm out to make fun of him. The only reason Al hasn't encountered anything of the sorts, is because he hasn't been in a situation to do so - and if he were, then I'd do the exact same to him._

_It has also been a little over a month since they've arrived. Not two weeks. I'm relying heavily on magic to improve Al's physical being. As for Ed, he didn't have any magic to help his arm regain muscle mass, which is why it has taken longer for him to recover. The moment he got new clothes he practically pulled on a long sleeved shirt and kept the condition of his arm to himself (because that's who is he and what he'd do), unlike Al was able to do (wasn't possible)._

_Overall, what I'm saying is that for ONCE Al gets to be in the more flexible role than Ed, which is why it seems Al is getting more chapter time. In almost every Harry Potter x Fullmetal Alchemist stories I've read, Ed gets the spotlight while Al is pushed to the background. If you want that, I promise that there is a surplus of that on the site. My story will give them equal time (for the most part, some chapters will have to focus on either Ed or Al more at times) and chances to be awesome._

_As for a few mistakes grammatically - I'm not perfect. I re-read everything I post multiple times and still manage to miss a few things, it's frustrating, but it happens. I don't have a Beta Reader and I don't plan on getting one, just because that I means I'll have to work around another person's schedule besides my own. _

_Hope that helps you understand where I'm coming from and what my approach is with this._

_Someone also wanted to know why Harry froze up. He did because that's what he did in the movie the moment he saw the Death Eaters. _

* * *

**_7._** _Oxygen_

* * *

"I want to show you something, Edward."

The sixteen-year-old arches his blond eyebrows, his golden irises lazily trailing after Dumbledore as he takes a few strides to a specific shelf in his office. The elderly man had called him roughly fifteen minutes ago, initially irking him as he had been in the process of preparing for another trip, but now his curiosity is piqued.

Dumbledore's tone of voice rings with a positive vibe - which means he must have some semblance of good news to share with him. Edward's willing to take whatever he can get at this point, too.

"Well?" He takes a seat in one of the chairs sitting directly across from Dumbledore's desk, his feet finding their way to the desktop. Dumbledore doesn't seem to mind as he hunkers down by the shelf and pulls a dirty boot out from it. Edward cringes at the sight. "Do you always keep nasty ass shoes in bookshelves? That's what trashcans are for, you know . . ."

The old man chuckles good-naturedly as he approaches. "No, not particularly." He holds the boot up. "This isn't any dirty old boot. It is a portkey."

Edward blinks. He's read of those actually. "They get you from one point to another at a quick rate. Usually they are grotesque objects that muggles wouldn't want to get their hands on . . ." He waves his hand in front of his face when the stench of sweaty foot invades his nostrils. "Makes sense."

"Indeed." Dumbledore agrees. "This is going to take us to a dear friend's house."

"Okay?" Edward says and crosses his arms, a look of skepticism displayed on his visage. "You want me to go why?"

The elderly wizard merely extends the boot outward. "Patience is a virtue," he says, "Remember to hold on tightly."

_Well, there's nothing else to do anyways_, Edward reasons with himself. Besides, if push comes to shove (not that he thinks Dumbledore door will betray him, but one can never been too sure), Edward's physical prowess should be enough to gain him the upper hand in a battle with Dumbledore and his other wand waving idiots.

Mind made up, he reaches out for the boot.

* * *

After the tournament and a brief run in with Mr. Crouch, followed by an aluminous skeleton cast into the sky by an unknown wizard, the a majority of the Weasleys, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Alphonse, all got to return to the Burrow. It was there that Alphonse was backed into a corner and pressured into explaining his wandless magic - alchemy as he called it - all of which went over everyone's head and out the window.

Molly, as her and Arthur had discussed a few days prior, had to contact Dumbledore about Alphonse's appearance. He showed up right away where they discussed the child, his condition upon arriving, reasons why she kept him secret, and much more. The meeting went really well and in private from the children's prying ears.

The verdict? According to Dumbledore: _"Alphonse Elric can prove to be beneficial to the wizarding world, therefore will not be in need of a memory wipe. In fact, I'm going to offer him an opportunity to become a student at Hogwarts. But first I must retrieve an official invitation from my office."_ It was more than Molly could hope for. She's just grown too attached to the boy to let him go without a fight.

She can't deny that something during the meeting caught her - and she might be misinterpreting Dumbledore's body language - but his eyes seemed to light up with a healthy dose of both joy and relief when she told him Alphonse's name. Now, she doesn't know to take it, or if her mind is playing tricks on her in her middle age, but she doesn't want to jump to any conclusions or even begin to decode Dumbledore's reaction. Most likely she'd be wrong anyways.

Currently, she sits at the kitchen table, her dinner untouched, and her eyes occasionally flickering to Alphonse and back down to her plate. She is well aware that Dumbledore will be showing up any moment now - the meeting with said man having occurred about two hours ago - and finds that she is anxious about whether or not Alphonse will accept the invitation to join Hogwarts.

She knows it will be difficult to get caught up to the year he's supposed to be in (a fifth year) - if he even can. But thankfully the study has all the textbooks he will need to review. She's certain that Hermione will help him study.

Then there will be the sorting and going to Diagon Alley for supplies. Surely Dumbledore will supply him with the funds, being that the invitation is on such short a notice and considering Alphonse's circumstances. (The child's practically an orphan now, after all! He has no one but himself and the Weasleys to rely upon.)

Then there is the fact that the boy's older brother is missing. He might skip out to look for him - and knowing Alphonse's mentality and sense of loyalty, devotion, and diligence, he most likely will.

Molly sighs. She can't much blame him for wanting to find his only reliable family member. Still, the thought of him being out there, suffering and struggling as he searches - it disturbs her more than she likes to admit.

She takes a bite of pasta and washes it down with a big gulp of water. Her heart aches. Perhaps she has become too attached to the boy. But how could she not? He showed up so sickly and in obvious need of a mother's affection. She tended to him and got him in better shape, fed him, gave him clothes, and took care of him as if he were one of her own (in her mind he has become as such).

That and he seemed so lost - as if he had spent years in misery, which, based on his body's initial condition, is probably the truth.

It was inevitable that she'd grow to care for him in such a manner.

Molly's internal reverie comes to an abrupt end when there's a loud 'pop' sound followed by a flash of light and a human - a teenager from the looks of it - that comes crashing down on the ground. As she predicted, Dumbledore is present, too, amused as he looks down at his fallen companion.

"I'm surprised you took so long, Dumbledore!" she chimes in greeting, smiling kindly. Dumbledore gives a slight bow of his head in response.

"I apologize for that -"

"Fuck that hurt!" the golden-haired boy groans from the floor. Most of the people present in the room gasp at the profane language - all except Alphonse who jumps out of his seat and runs around to the boy's side. That's when Molly sees it -

Alphonse and this boy both have the same noses, golden eyes and hair, similar facial structures, and are the same height. Molly raises a hand to her mouth in shock. This boy, without a doubt, is Alphonse's missing brother: Edward.

Before anyone can comment or do anything, Edward lets out a loud cry and pulls Alphonse into his arms. Molly feels a smile tug at her lips, her heart warmed at the sight of the two finally being reunited.

Alphonse chuckles at his brother's antics. "Here I thought it'd take forever to track you down, brother."

"Al . . ." Edward trails off, eyes big. "it's _you_ . . ._ really you_." He has a look on his face as if this is the first time seeing Alphonse ever. It's an odd expression, Molly decides, one that seems out of place, but doesn't comment. She has no intentions of ruining this family reunion.

"Yeah," Alphonse says with a small smile, his arms wrapping around his brother's back. "you weren't getting into anymore trouble were you?"

Edward pulls away and looks Alphonse up and down, accessing his current condition (Molly assumes). "No. I've been searching for_ you_ while staying over at Hogwarts." There's a bright look in his eyes, almost as if he is on the verge of tears.

"I was just about to come looking for you, brother . . ." Alphonse trails off before lifting a hand to his face and wiping at his eyes. "I still can't believe you're here!" He throws himself back at his older sibling, his body shaking.

Edward smiles, his frame slumping against Alphonse as if he's weak in the knees. "Gee, it's not like it's been that long," he teases, the look on his face contradicting his words.

"Edward has been dedicating himself wholly to looking for you, Alphonse," Dumbledore chimes with a smile, interrupting the brothers. Molly and the others look at the headmaster.

Edward steps forward, his eyebrows burrowed deep between his eyes, his lips pulled into a tight scowl, and his eyes a molten gold. "Did you know where he was the whole time, you old bastard?! Did you keep this a secret?!"

Molly can't believe Edward just addressed the headmaster in such a way and can only gape. To think this boy is the complete opposite of Alphonse! If they didn't look so much alike, she'd think them the farthest thing from related - let alone _brothers_.

Before anyone can come to Dumbledore's defense, the elderly wizard raises a hand as a way to halt anyone - namely Harry and Ron - from making a scene. Alphonse gives his brother a scolding look.

"No, I just learned of Alphonse's location earlier today," he says. Edward's facial expression only slightly relaxes, the tension still thick in the room. "He's the reason I asked you to come along with me here. I wouldn't dream of keeping you two apart."

"It's my fault," Molly interjects, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. She takes a deep breath, her eyes locking with Alphonse's questioning ones. "I didn't tell Dumbledore here of your arrival, Al. You were just so sickly - I didn't think it'd do you any good at the time." She wrings her hands, the guilt swelling in her chest almost unbearable. "Had I known your brother was with him though, I would have said something right away."

The blond gives her a warm smile. "It's not your fault, Molly," he says, "It's no one's."

"Now, that, that is settled, I will get to the other reason I came here," Dumbledore trills and reaches into one of his sleeves. _Must be the invitation_, Molly thinks, not surprised when Dumbledore fishes out a little envelope. "This is for you, Alphonse." He extends the letter out for Alphonse to take. The boy looks genuinely surprised.

"Me?"

The old man chuckles. "Yes, go on."

"Just take it," Edward cuts in, snatching the envelope up and thrusting it into Alphonse's hands.

"I was about to grab it . . ." he mutters, glaring at his older sibling though there is no real threat or irritation behind the look. He then focuses on the seal on the back of the envelope and gives it a tug. He pulls out the letter and hands Edward envelope. "A letter?" he inquires, looking up at Dumbledore, obviously confused. Molly can't blame him, either. It most certainly is an odd situation.

"Read it." Dumbledore encourages, the corners of his lips curved upward. Alphonse blinks and shrugs before doing as suggested, his golden gaze sweeping across the font quickly, his eyelids pulling back in surprise. He looks up, shocked.

"You want me to attend . . . Hogwarts?" he questions. It's obvious that he's hesitant - if not reluctant. He glances over at Edward. "Um, well, I don't know, me and brother should probably try to get back to our home now that we've found each other and I'm all better."

Molly opens her mouth to protest, refusing to let those boys go back to such an undoubtedly hostile environment, but Dumbledore beats her to the punch:

"Actually, I've already offered Edward here a job. Although at the time it was to help him receive enough funding to find you," Dumbledore explains, turning towards Edward, a serious look in-tact. "My offer still stands, nonetheless. You may attend as student, too, if you'd prefer -"

Edward frowns. "How? I can't even use magic." He crosses his arms. "And why is Al being invited to attend, anyways? He doesn't know how to use magic."

Hermione stands up. "He saved many lives at the Quidditch World Cup Final - including mine - with his alchemy. That's reason enough."

"What?" Edward asks, blinking rapidly as if he can't believe what he heard. He stares over at Alphonse with a glare. "You WERE getting into trouble. And people say I'm the one that constantly brings it upon us."

Alphonse waves his hands in front of him frantically. "I-it's not like that, brother! These cloaked figures showed up and started burning down all the tents outside the stadium! I couldn't just runaway when I could save people!"

"So many more would have died had Al not done what he did." Harry adds with a nod. Ron sighs beside him.

"Yeah, the rest of us were practically powerless to do anything."

"That's not true!" Alphonse insists firmly. "Arthur was able to help evacuate a lot of people - and my injuries wouldn't have gotten healed if you three weren't there with me."

"I don't know," Edward says, "There's a lot we have to do."

Alphonse frowns and tugs his brother close and begins to whisper something harshly into his ear. Edward looks shocked a brief moment before whispering something back. Molly huffs, irritated that she can't quite make out what they're saying, but concludes it must be something positive, because Edward's facial expression softens and he nods. Alphonse beams in response.

"We accept your invitation, Mr. Dumbledore."

"Very well," Dumbledore begins with a bob of his head, a pleased look upon his face. "Class starts in just a week's time. Beforehand you will need to be evaluated to see what year you will be placed in, sorted into a house, and to purchase the appropriate items from Diagon Alley."

"Um, where do I begin?"

"Well, I'll need you to come with me to take your examination, then we'll get you sorted into a house. Your supplies can wait until later."

Alphonse's eyes grow wide. "I-I don't get to study?!"

"You've already devoured every book in the study, Al," Hermione intervenes, shaking her head. "That includes all the textbooks from previous years and the ones I bought for this year. You'll be fine."

He doesn't look convinced, but doesn't make any sounds of denial. Dumbledore takes this as a good sign and continues: "We shall be on our way then." He pulls out the same dirty boot that got him and Edward there and hold it out to the two boys. Alphonse looks a little green at the sight of it.

"I take it that's a portkey?"

"Yes."

"It stinks, I know," Edward adds, pinching his nostrils shut with one hand while the other slowly reaches out for the boot.

"Probably not as bad your shoes used to," Alphonse comments with a snicker. Edward gives him a dry look.

"Don't make me mention a certain bedtime habit you used to have." he threatens. The younger brother jumps in surprise, face red.

"Okay, okay, you win!" he cries. Molly can't help but wonder what it might me. Probably bed-wetting - most children do at one point or another.

Dumbledore chuckles at the two and shakes his head. "Are you ready?" They nod while the elderly wizard gives the Weasleys and their guests his undivided attention. "I'll be seeing the rest of you shortly."

They are gone with a flash.

* * *

After getting over the nausea that comes with traveling by portkey, Alphonse finds himself in a large, somewhat cluttered office of sorts with unique decorations and bookshelves. He assumes it must be Dumbledore's quarters based solely upon the fact that the man takes a seat at the desk in front of him. Edward plops down in one of the seats opposite of the wizard in the meanwhile.

"So, this is Hogwarts . . ." he mumbles to himself. He won't deny that it looks like an old dungeon, dim lighting and stone walls included. He's too kind to announce that thought however. "Will I take my test here?"

"Yes," Dumbledore answers, wand suddenly in hand. He gives it a wave a packet of papers appear on a clean section of his desk. "Just take this seat here," he motions to a chair beside Edward, "and you may begin."

Alphonse does as instructed and picks up a nearby pen. He takes a deep breath, calming his frayed nerves (failure isn't an option, the information in the library might help them discover where they are), and begins.

Roughly forty-five minutes later, he's finished. Edward throws his head back with a loud sigh as Alphonse turns in his test. "It's about damn time! I thought I was going to die of old age over here!"

"Gee, don't be so dramatic, brother - I've had to wait a lot longer on you." Alphonse remarks. Edward snorts.

"Whatever."

"I'll have this graded shortly. In the meanwhile I'll have you sorted." Dumbledore interjects, getting up from his chair and walking to another corner of the room. The Elric brothers watch him curiously until he returns with a pointy, black hat in tow. "You put this on and the hat will speak to you."

"Wait . . ."

Edward's eyes widen. "How can a hat talk to you?"

"Simple: magic." Dumbledore chimes, handing the hat to Alphonse. The boy gives it an apprehensive look, the corners of his lips pulled down into a frown. "Go on, put it on your head. It won't hurt you."

Alphonse keeps a look of skepticism upon his face while slowly lifting the hat up and plopping it onto his head. At first, he doesn't feel anything, and wonders if this is some hoax, a means for insulting him - when a voice invades his ears: "Hmm, it seems you've experienced much . . ."

He stiffens. "Y-You're a soul . . . attached to the hat?! Who did this to you?" he demands, standing up. Dumbledore and Edward look at him, both concerned.

"I did it to myself," the hat returns in a hushed manner. "Don't fret. I wanted this form and I got it."

"But why would you want that?"

The hat is silent a moment as if pondering the question, then answers: "It's a long story. Please, just understand."

Edward raises an eyebrow. "Are you okay, Al?"

"Um, y-yeah, it's nothing brother." he replies. His brother hesitates momentarily before accepting his answer and going back to filling out the paperwork for his job. Dumbledore's eyes linger on him a little longer, making Alphonse slightly uncomfortable, but the elder eventually averts his gaze back onto the test he had taken earlier, quill in hand.

"Shall we continue?" the hat inquires. He takes a deep, shaky breath, and bobs his head. "Very well," it begins, "you are brave, loyal, smart, and cunning. You have traits from all the houses."

Alphonse balls his hands up. "Please, _please_ put me in the same house as my friends."

"No, no, you would flourish much more on your own . . ." the hat trails off, tenses, then announces: "Ravenclaw!"

Alphonse's heart drops to the pit of his stomach. He wants to object - say anything to get the hat to change his mind, but Dumbledore is already looking at him with an unquestionably cheery expression, and knows it's too late to go back. "I wanted to be with Hermione and the others . . ." he grumbles quietly enough that neither Edward nor Dumbledore hear while removing the hat from his head. He hands it to the elderly wizard.

"Congratulations," he trills, "Ravenclaw is the house of the witty and intelligent. A good house if I do say so myself."

The blond sighs. He's not exactly pleased with his results (obviously), but there's nothing that can be done. Besides, he and his brother have other, more important, things to worry about (finding out where they are and how to get back home, for instance). With that in mind, he inhales deeply through his nostrils and forces a smile onto his lips. "Thanks."

* * *

**_This is all for this chapter - honestly, the reason it is even getting posted so soon is because I already was half-way through it before I posted the previous one. The next chapter WILL take longer. Mainly because I'm already getting swamped with homework! The first week of school and I've already had two homework assignments and a paper to write that's due this coming Monday. _**

**_Anyways, enough of my rambling and onto my assessment of this chapter: _**

**_1. I decided to make Ed and Al's reunion through Molly's perspective, primarily because I thought it would be interesting to see it through someone else's eyes._ **

**2. The reunion didn't end up being as I initially planned it due to everyone being present (they couldn't say all that they wanted to). **

**3. It's not as long as I'd like. The next chapter will be better - this one was necessary to push the plot forward.**

**PLEASE share your thoughts! Sorry about any grammar mistakes.**


	8. Uranium

**_Feedback: _**_lhasdkfllh! I've reached 100 reviews and 300 favorites/alerts! That makes me so happy! Every single one of you is absolutely amazing! For the most part I've received so many positive things from you - and without your support I would have lost inspiration a long ass time ago! _

_**Original name2:** Ed definitely gets to outshine Al on more occasions (due to being the main protagonist obviously - NOT FAIR). But Al can be cunning. For instance, as Brick mentioned, Al was pretty cunning to come up with a trick to trap Pride. Unfortunately, he, as most of the other characters are, was pushed in the background and we don't really get to see the full extent of his - and their - abilities. Hope that helps you see where I'm coming from!_

_**Brick:** Definitely thought I'd let you know that you MIGHT (wink) get to see what's going down later on. xD_

_**chesirecatgrin:** For starters, thanks again for the feedback! I always appreciate it! Anyways, I'm not going to lie, what was said between Ed and Al wasn't all that important. xD It was just to pique Molly's and the others' curiosity. As for Al being in Ravenclaw, that's exactly why I put him there. While it would have been a lot easier to put him in Gryffindor, it's just overdone - and plus, dialogue is sort of a weak point for me, so him being off to himself will make writing his thoughts and such a little easier. And there will be plenty of bad-assness coming up! (I hope you like it!)_

_**guest:** I'm glad you like this so much! It means a lot to me! And I agree with you - Al is almost ALWAYS belittled in Ed-centric fics (and like you, he is my favorite while Ed is my second fav) and it just kills me. That's one of the main reasons I decided to give him such a big role in this. Anyways, thanks for taking the time to share your thoughts with me! I hope you stick around until the end! (:_

_**The QAS:**_ _It's fine! Believe me, I've already had to write three papers and more! So I understand all about having homework! D: Ed is always the best comic relief! That's one of the reasons I love him! xD_

_As for Al's school year, it is definitely going to be interesting. I plan on differing from the original plot to make it more interesting. Which brings up another point: THANKS for mentioning those classes. I was wondering what to have him take - and those sound like amazing ideas! As for Transfiguration, you know shit is going to go down there! You know those Elric brothers. Hah. _

_I already have Rita Skeeter playing a part in this, because, like you, I thought it would be interesting. I won't reveal anymore than that on the matter (I got to leave you guessing after all)! _

_I'm glad you feel that way! I agree about Slytherin - that's somewhere I'd place Ed. Al definitely will be able to make friends easily. He's too sweet and friendly!_

_Ed's role right now is the self-proclaimed 'money maker'. He doesn't have a research fund to back him now and he knows that he and Al will need money to travel and live (of course Al's basic needs will be supplied by the school). He won't be taking classes, but he will get to sit in a few (running errands and helping teachers out when they need a hand). Anyways, I don't want to reveal too much. You'll find out more soon enough!_

_As always, I loved hearing from you! I always enjoy your insightful reviews!_

_**-** Thanks to all the others that reviewed, faved, and alerted! Sorry if I didn't get to reply to everyone! I think I got you all, but I might have missed one or two!_

* * *

**_8._**_ Uranium_

* * *

Over the next few days, Alphonse learns that he has scored high enough on his evaluation to be placed in the year appropriate to his age at Hogwarts (fifth year), and travels to Diagon Alley with Molly and Edward. Dumbledore had given him a list of supplies he needs for the year the same day he learned of his test results and had insisted on giving him money to pay for everything, but Edward strongly objected, saying he would pay since he is Alphonse's older brother - so pay he did.

He, like Edward, can't seem to use a wand, which confuses both Molly and Ollivander (the owner of the wand shop), because both of them can see Hogwarts, despite the charms placed upon the school to prevent muggles' from being able to do as such. They plan on asking Dumbledore about the occurrence later.

As for Edward, that means his theory of the Gate being connected to magic just went out the window. He has a feeling that it has something to do with Amestris and the fact that isn't on the map or even mentioned in a geography book, encyclopedia, or any other source that would have information pertaining to the country. Though, he has realized that there are plenty of other countries that HE has never heard of. Something just doesn't add up.

A few questions come to mind: are he and Alphonse truly of another universe? Is their _genetic makeup_ completely different of these people?

In the end, Alphonse purchases all his other supplies: books, robes, a cauldron, a cute, little male tabby kitten (after much begging), etc.. Edward also gets a few supplies - primarily a few new slacks, waistcoats, white button-ups, and ties to go under the black cloak he has been forced to wear as a teaching assistant. Not that he is too happy about it.

Nonetheless, Edward has been stuck being trained for the job under Snape's guidance. He concludes that he will mainly be running errands and fetching anything that the DADA professor may need (flasks, books, ingredients, etc.). Although Dumbledore said that he would like Edward to teach the students basic self-defense techniques like proper fighting stance and how to throw a right hook for_ "in case they're ever in a situation where using their wand is not an option, nor is escape" - _makes sense in his opinion.

Alphonse, on the other hand, has been studying a map of the school to figure out how to get to and from his classes without getting lost. Like Edward, he sees the layout as a labyrinth - and overly complex. Hermione showed him a few shortcuts here and there that will prove useful, but he knows that it will be different in person than how it is on a map.

Other than that, he has taken to looking over Edward's notes. He has already moved into his dorm (Edward insisted and Dumbledore decided not to argue with him about it) and has found it to be quite spacious and accommodating. Initially he thought it to be a little too open and airy for his tastes, but has adjusted well. He now spends most of his time there studying and trying to figure out where they are.

He hasn't come up with anything yet, and with Edward being forced to train for his job, they haven't been able to put their heads together and get much accomplished. On the side, he has been trying to incorporate magical runes into an alchemic matrix. He has concluded that he, nor Edward, can use magic like Harry and the others because they draw from a different source: the energy of tectonic plates - a more physical energy, while magic is drawn from a more spiritual (and emotional) energy - something they're not used to.

Dumbledore told them, that they have the capability to use magic, but it's as if there is something _blocking_ that ability. He said if it were not so, then Edward wouldn't be able to make a proper potion - _"Instead of having to use his wand to make a potion have magical properties, Edward can merely use touch to achieve as such."_ - nor see Hogwarts.

So far, Alphonse has managed, with the aid of Edward's notes and books from the library, to create a transmutation circle that is something akin to a trap. First, the array must be activated, drawing energy from the tectonic plates, then when a target steps on the circle the magical runes incorporated into the matrix petrifies them. It's only a first step, but it solves Alphonse's issue with using magic (once he remembers the arrays, he should be able to just clap and use them). It doesn't solve Edward's however.

He has come up with an array that might work for his older sibling. It is composed of nothing but magical runes that wrap around to form a circle. It is simple, no inner matrix, but does have a magical symbol in the center - a flame. It's obviously a fire spell, much like the one that those 'Death Eaters' used during the Quidditch World Cup Final, except on a slightly smaller scale.

The problem is that Edward will have to learn how to draw energy from within, or in other words: draw from his own spiritual and emotional energy. Which, he speculates, will be a large hurdle for Edward. Not that his brother isn't an emotional individual, because he most certainly _is_, but he (and Alphonse himself) have both relied on logic and pulling from a physical source of energy from the tectonic plates beneath their feet for so long, that it will be a hard habit to break. He imagines that Edward will have as difficult of a time learning to rely on spiritual energy as he had trying to feel the Dragon's Pulse that Mei spoke of in alkahestry.

The thing is, Alphonse can't help him with that. He's asked Hermione about how she performs magic, but she said: _"I just do. There's no thought to it. I say the incantation - and my wand does the rest."_ It hadn't been helpful.

Harry, though, had been much handier. He told Alphonse that the only time he has truly had to focus to use magic, is when he had to cast a particular spell: the _Petronus_. In order for the spell to work, Harry has to focus on a powerfully happy memory. Instantly, Alphonse started dissecting the mechanics behind the spell and why it required something as basic as a memory, but quickly came to a conclusion: the spell doesn't require a_ memory_, but the _emotions_ that occur when such a memory is called upon.

It seems simple enough - think of a strong memory that causes a powerful emotional response. That's not hard to understand, right? Right. The problem is, however, how does one draw energy from an emotion? When you're happy you do feel better - more energetic - but how can that be channeled to fuel something like a spell?

Scientifically speaking, one can't. Magically speaking, one _can_.

Alphonse runs his hands through his hair and flops down on his chosen bed, his black and blue (blue for Ravenclaw) robes pooling around him. Tomorrow is the first day of class, and according to Dumbledore, he and Edward will have to be present for the start-of-the-year Welcoming Ceremony. Apparently it's school tradition. Plus, Dumbledore said he has a big announcement to make, though Alphonse can't imagine what it might be.

He is snapped out of his thoughts when the door to the room opens. He sits up, not surprised to see his sibling walking towards him. "How was training?"

Edward shrugs. "Same boring shit as yesterday." he admits, plopping down on one of the other beds. "Did you find anything worthwhile in the library?"

"Yeah," Alphonse says with a nod, "I managed to take your notes and what I found to create a transmutation circle incorporating magical runes. It worked - I petrified a fly." He grabs his notebook and walks over to Edward. He points to the circle composed of nothing but magical runes. "I also made this. I know it looks like alchemy -"

"But it's obviously not." Edward finishes for him, snatching the notebook out of Alphonse's palms. "This doesn't have any alchemic properties - no matrix or sharp lines. Based on this," he points to the flame, "it's safe to assume this a fire spell - or at least an elemental spell."

The younger Elric bobs his head. "Exactly. I don't think there's anything wrong with the circle itself, the problem will be learning how to draw from the spiritual energy within yourself. I have a theory that it's linked to emotions, but I don't know how to _control_ energy your body creates from emotions."

"I wish there was a way for us to test this out . . ."

"Me too, brother." Alphonse takes back his notebook and shuts it, taking a seat beside his sibling. They remain in silence for a moment, both contemplating their situation, when: "Do you think there is a way home from here?"

Edward heaves a heavy sigh. "I'm not even sure where _here_ is, Al." He meets his brother's questioning gaze with a weak smile. "I can only guess that_ this_ is the equivalent exchange for Father sacrificing his life to send me to the Gate. Instead of killing me - or us - Truth sent us here."

"That makes sense." Alphonse agrees, scratching his head. "It's just hard to swallow."

"Yeah," Edward agrees, "which means the only way back is to pass through the Gate again. Magic bypasses equivalent exchange . . . maybe we can use that to our advantage so that we don't have to make a sacrifice. Obviously, we can't use your Gate as the tow - we wouldn't have a way out."

Alphonse rubs his face, frustrated. "I guess that means another trip to the library for me - actually . . ." he trails off, sending Edward an innocent look that makes the elder Elric slightly nervous (the look is never truly innocent). "Aren't you allowed access to the books in the restricted section?"

A light bulb seems to go off in Edward's head and he stands up. "I'll be back later, alright?"

The blond blinks and nods. "Um, okay."

"I'm going to need my notes - and yours." he adds, holding out a hand expectantly. Alphonse shrugs and hands over what is requested. "Thanks."

* * *

Hermione buries her fingers clear up to the knuckle in her unruly tresses, the muscles of her face pinched taut, and an irritated huff slipping past her lips. Despite the notes on alchemy that Alphonse gave to her (that she requested but didn't expect to receive anytime soon) she still can't seem to grasp how to transmute an object.

She knows all the components contained within the block of wood she purchased from a muggle shop and she is certain that the circle she has drawn is right, however when she attempts the transmutation nothing happens. It's embarrassing! It wounds her pride and makes her question her status as being at the top of her class, really!

The fourteen-year-old mumbles something under her breath and slams her notebook (she had given it to Alphonse to write down the notes) shut. She gets up with the intentions of heading to bed for the night, when the door to the study opens and in steps Ron and Harry, the former with a bowl of popcorn. She raises her eyebrows.

"What are you two up to?" She places her hands on the rounds of her hips. "I highly doubt you're here to get ahead in your studies."

Ron makes a sour face. "You've got that right. Only idiots would spend the last few days of their summer vacation _studying_."

The female of the trio rolls her eyes. "If only you could hear yourself."

"Nu-nu-nuh," Ron mocks with a teasing snarl. Harry groans.

"You two really need to pull yourselves together," he says, shaking his head. He shoots Ron a look. "Besides, we didn't take this chance to insult each other, but to talk about something important."

Hermione blinks, her curiosity piqued. It's true that the three of them haven't necessarily had any privacy since Alphonse went to Hogwarts. She has been helping Ginny get over her insecurity when around Harry, Ron has been doing_ God only knows what_, and Harry has been - well, she's not too certain. She's literally has been too wrapped up with giving Ginny advice to notice. (Has she really been that self-absorbed?)

"Alright, what is it?" she inquires, crossing her arms.

Ron takes a deep breath. "We've," he glances at Harry as if to indicate that it was he they he has been talking to, "talked and we're worried about Alphonse's alchemy and the possibilities it may present in the future."

Hermione raises her eyebrows. "Slow down, Ron, you actually sounded sophisticated just then." she chuckles. The redhead gives her a dry expression before continuing onward:

"We're serious! Those Death Eaters saw what he is capable of. They might kidnap him and force him to teach them!" Ron visibly shivers, clearly distraught by the notion (not that she's not, because she _is_). "Imagine what all they'd be able to do then! They could bring down Hogwarts easy enough! I mean, Alphonse demonstrated what he can do with just _a clap of his hands_."

. . . She hasn't thought of it like that before.

"You've got a point, Ron." she agrees with a bob of her head. Harry steps forward.

"We should tell Dumbledore. He might be able to do something."

* * *

"How does your body feel?" Edward questions, looking up from a book clasped firmly in his right hand (he's been working on his grip lately). He frowns. "And how the hell did you recover so quickly? It took a whole month to get my right arm even near the strength to my left - and I still struggle with small actions like griping." He shakes his head. "I guess I'm permanently a leftie now."

Alphonse raises up from his bed, laying down a book about house elves that Hermione had gave him near the pillow behind him, a confused expression etched upon his visage. Edward cocks an eyebrow; had he said something wrong?

"Molly used magic and potions on me. If she hadn't I probably couldn't even walk without a cane yet."

Edward feels his jaw drop. He should have known! "Fuck. Madam Pomfrey has been holding out on me . . ."

"Well, all that matters is that you can use your arm again."

"Yeah, that's true," Edward agrees. "Anyways, answer my question. Does anything with your body feel off? Weird?"

Alphonse cocks an eyebrow at him. Edward keeps their gazes locked. What he really wants to ask is if being in the Gate for so long messed up his body in someway, shape, or form. If so, he would never forgive himself, not that he _can_ to begin with.

"No," Alphonse says, flipping his palms upward and staring at them. He flexes his fingers and moves his eyes upward while smiling, meeting Edward's curious gaze. "It's as if I was never even separated from it. Though it has been weird adjusting to certain sensations again. Like pain, skin-on-skin contact, and the way clothes feel - especially wool. It's like my skin is more sensitive."

Edward nods, a look of relief upon his visage. "It's probably just where you hadn't felt anything for a little over five years, you know?"

"I figured as much." the younger Elric agrees. There's a moment of silence then: "Have you added anything to our notes?"

"No, the library doesn't have anything on the Gate or alchemy. But I did try to use that array you developed."

Alphonse blinks. "And?"

"It didn't work. I tried focusing on multiple memories that incur different emotions, but . . . it just wouldn't work." Edward answers, a frustrated expression twisting its way onto his face. He's never had to struggle before like this, he's always been able to figure things out easily. But he should know, without his Gate, things are going to be more difficult. There might not even be a way to bypass that.

He's snapped from his thoughts when he feels a warm hand on his shoulder. He glances at the owner of the hand, not surprised to see it is Alphonse. "It probably will take longer than an hour to figure out, brother. So, don't beat yourself up, okay?"

Edward pulls away and stands up, stretching his arms above his head. "Yeah, yeah," he mutters in disinterest, "I'm going to go get some shut-eye. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Alright, goodnight, brother."

* * *

Harry isn't surprised to run into Alphonse out in the Great Hall.

He, Ron, and Hermione were well on their way there, when they spotted him just outside in the Entrance Hall. He had been waiting on them, seeing as how he didn't really know anyone. Harry had wondered where the boy's older sibling had went off to, but never got the chance to ask. The moment they see him, Hermione is practically on him, tackling him into a tight embrace. It doesn't help that he can see Ron quietly seething from the corner of his eye.

When the two separate Alphonse waves at him and Ron. "Hey guys," he greets cheerily, "I thought I'd wait on you all to get here before I have to go sit with the other Ravenclaw students."

Harry hears Ron mutter 'you shouldn't have' under his breath, and it almost grates on Harry's nerves. Ron is being a bit ridiculous, but he decides not to comment for multiple reasons. Instead, he gives Alphonse a smile and nods. "I take it you're nervous?"

Alphonse gives a sheepish laugh and rubs at the back of his head. "You can say that," he admits, "I went to a school that only had a handful of students. This is kind of overwhelming."

Hermione places a comforting hand on the boy's shoulders, offering an encouraging look. "You'll be fine, Al," she chimes, "with a personality like yours, you're guaranteed to get along with just about anyone!"

"Besides those sneaky Slytherin," Ron grumbles, "they're all rude and disgusting. They think they're better than the rest of us."

"I guess I'll just steer clear of them, then."

Hermione and Harry both nod in approval. "It'd be in your best interest," Hermione comments. "Especially if you're not a full-blooded wizard. They don't take too kindly to muggle-born."

"_But_ we better get going," Ron interjects, tugging on one of Harry and Hermione's sleeves. "We don't want to get the crappy seats." He starts pulling them inside the Great Hall.

"Um, okay, I'll see you later!" Alphonse calls after them before they disappear into the crowd of cloak-clad students. It is rather rude and after a few more seconds of the poor treatment, Harry and Hermione both jerk their sleeves out of Ron's tight grasp. Harry never realized how uncomfortable Alphonse makes Ron feel. It only confirms what he already knew: Ron has deeply rooted feelings for Hermione but refuses to admit as such.

Hermione, frazzled, places her hands on her hips and glares at Ron (thank the Maker that Harry isn't on the receiving end). "_What in the world_ is wrong with you, Ronald?! That was completely unnecessary and rude!"

Ron rolls his eyes at his friend's dramatic behavior and takes a seat at Gryffindor's assigned table. Harry, deciding it'd be best to seat down, too, follows suit and turns away from his friends' bickering - or lovers' spat. He sighs. They're both neck deep in denial.

* * *

Edward is fully aware of the other members on the staff and the curious glances they keep sending his way (besides Snape and Hagrid, of course), almost begging that he explain his reason for being there. Too bad he doesn't necessarily feel like appeasing them at the moment and simply snatches food off the table and stuffs his face to his heart's content.

Unfortunately it doesn't long for his peace to be shattered.

"Excuse me, young man," a thin woman with slightly sunken eyes inquires, pecking him on the shoulder with a slender digit. He looks at her with raised eyebrows, his jaws still chomping on a particularly tough piece of meat.

"Hmm?"

"I think you're at the wrong table, you're supposed to be sitting amongst the other students." she says in a sweet voice while sweeping her hand out in front of her, motioning towards the students. He rolls his eyes and swallows down the shredded meat, waving around the bone which the meat came from.

"You've got it all wrong, lady," he retorts, jabbing the bone in her face, pleased when she leans back uncomfortably. "The old man hired me to be a Teacher's Assistant - you know, for the new DADA Professor."

"But you're so young!" she cries out, shocked and horrified. "Surely the Headmaster wouldn't resort to hiring children?!"

If there's one thing that gets on Edward's nerves faster than being called 'short' or 'midget', is being called a 'child'. He, nor his little brother, have been children for a long time and people tend to forget that (never mind the fact that this woman isn't even remotely aware of his difficult past) - even his superiors in the military back home in Amestris.

Therefore -

"Ah, blow it out your ass." Edward says casually before putting the bone back on his plate and scooping up another biscuit. The other professors gasp and begin whispering to one another as if he doesn't know they're talking about him (not that he exactly cares). The woman beside him remains silent, a look of pure shock on her face.

He raises the biscuit to his mouth and smirks. _And_ that's_ how you make a stunning first impression_.

* * *

"What are you going to do about this? The boy could pose a threat to the Wizarding World . . ."

There's an exasperated sigh that follows and heavy footsteps approaching a large window. The man tucks his arms against the small of his back and says: "I haven't decided yet. There's a possibility that he may not be a threat - and if I go ahead and take action, then the peace we've worked so hard to achieve might be shattered."

"Just like you're worried about you-know-who's second coming?"

The man snorts. "That's highly unlikely. I just think we need to take a passive approach to this - at least for now." He pauses to shift his weight from one foot to the other. "Besides, I don't want to accidentally causes a mass hysteria within Hogwarts and in turn, the rest of the Wizarding World. It's best just to keep an eye on the boy - see what his intentions are."

"Sir, if I may make a suggestion . . . ?"

He arches an eyebrow. "Go on."

"As you know, the Triwizard Tournament has just been announced at Hogwarts and will be the subject of much media attention."

"You're point?"

"Well, there's always the possibility of enlisting the help of a . . . certain_ someone_ that can spy on him for us. He won't even know she's there."

The man contemplates the proposition and nods approvingly. "Very well. Hire this certain someone and tell them to be quiet about it. I'd hate for it to leak out that the Minister of Magic is spying on students. That wouldn't do me any good now."

"Understood."

**TBC**

* * *

**_For starters: SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT._**

**_As you know, I'm back in school and have been smothered in homework (and I just took an exam yesterday that I've been studying for rigorously). Like right now I really should be writing my summary and evaluation of the Declaration of Independence and or studying for both my Visual Arts and Geology exams coming up next week, but I thought with how awesome you all have been, I should get this out (most of it has been complete for awhile, I just couldn't push through the last bit)._ **

**_Anyways, the plot intensifies! _**

**_Please share your thoughts!_**


End file.
